War Games 2: Planet Prison
by Koriat Cyredanthem
Summary: With John assigned to captain the Odysseus II, the four Spartan-IIs take the pain and suffering caused by the Jackal pirates back to the aliens ten-fold. But John's job is something he has never trained for and he struggles for balance. When his ship stumbles onto a closely-guarded Old Covenant secret, humanity stands to lose everything... again.
1. Chapter 1

_Welcome to the second installment in the War Games series! The first story was a romance/action one; this will follow more the lines of action/adventure. As a refresher: it is currently several years after the end of the Human-Covenant War. Humans and Sangheili have a working Alliance, which includes the Grunts (though they stay on their homeworld) and Huragok. The Yanme'e have all returned to their planet and refused to consider contact with the outside planets ever again. The Brutes and Hunters have formed the Old Covenant; the Prophets have all been assassinated or are under heavy guard on the Brute homeworld. The Jackals are pirates who prey on and sell to both sides of the uneasy truce._

_John, Kelly, Linda, and Fred have been living in sort of a limbo between their Spartan II (feared invincible super-soldier) and personal lives, trying to find a balance. Fred and Linda paired off, followed by John and Kelly. On a vacation (yes, a vacation) with former Admiral Terrence Hood, his wife Wendy, and their three children (Jonathan, Lucy, and Kade), their ship was ambushed by Jackal pirates. All hands were lost except the four Spartans and the three children; John was seriously injured in the retaliatory attack he led once the kids were safely on Kalgarro, a civilian colony on Jupiter's moon Io. John and his Spartans were ordered to wipe out the Jackal pirates and John decided to initiate the attack by preying on pirate ships returning to Eayn, the Jackal homeworld. He was made acting captain of the _Odysseus II_ and commands a full complement of volunteer Marines, Spartan IVs, and Helljumpers. _

_One issue may cause some confusion. The timeline was skewed slightly; it took two weeks, supposedly, for the _White Dove_ to travel from Earth to Kalgarro. Please accept my apology for not fixing this and take it on faith. The _Odysseus II_ will take fifteen days to travel to Eayn, which is a _hell_ of a lot farther. This could be explained by experimental faster Slipspace engines but, instead of attempting to make this realistically believable, I choose to simply pretend the two weeks from Earth to Kalgarro was due to the much slower engines of the _White Dove. _The _Dove_ was, after all, a civilian ship._

_I hope you enjoy. Please review with your thoughts and comments. _

**Chapter 1: A Day in the Life of a Captain**

"Good morning, Captain," Maximus said, waking the Spartan.

"Morning." John rolled onto his back and then sat up. "Lights on." The lights slowly brightened. He stood.

"You have several meetings today, sir," Maximus informed him as John crossed to the bathroom. "Master Chief Kite has requested your presence at her training session this morning. Dr. West would like to discuss possible augmentations to the Rabbit Team to enhance their reaction times at 1000 hours. Crewman Schwartz has sent his report and it is filed in your desk when you're ready to read it. Master Chief Sierra-058 has requested a meeting to discuss her efforts with the pilots and reassignment to a sniper squad – I scheduled her for just after lunch. Master Chief Slaughbaum will present his team's report on their progress in hand-to-hand at 1500 hours, followed by Master Chief Tuckkit. Then you have duties on the bridge until 1900 hours. Master Chief Leranson has an idea for integration techniques that haven't yet been tried and would like to go over them with you sometime today."

"Schedule Leranson for 1100," John ordered around his toothbrush. In the past week of Slipspace travel he had gotten quite comfortable with his dual duties as Spartan soldier and Captain of the ship.

"Yes, sir."

John quickly showered, shaved, and dressed in his training gear. He trotted into the hallway and found Kelly leaning on the wall waiting for him.

"Morning, Captain," she said cheerfully, trotting alongside him.

"Morning, Master Chief," John replied. Kelly accompanied him in companionable silence to the gym and then they went their separate ways; Kelly to the running track with the Rabbits and John to Kite's group, gathered along one wall of the gym.

"Atten-hut!" Kite barked as John walked up. The soldiers snapped into crisp salutes; John returned the salute.

"At ease," he ordered. "Master Chief." He shook Kite's hand and then stepped into line with the rest of the Spartan IVs.

"Alright, Spartans, find a partner," Master Chief Kite barked. John turned to the man to his right and nodded in greeting. His name tag read Lichtenstein; he was a Petty Officer First Class. "Hit the machines." Kite released them to the weight lifting area of the gym.

"Captain 117," Petty Officer Lichtenstein said in greeting, motioning for John to choose the first machine they would work on.

"Petty Officer Lichtenstein," John replied. He spotted an open bench and crossed to it. "I'll spot first."

Petty Officer Lichtenstein nodded and lay down on the bench, wiggling to adjust himself. "I start with 100," he offered, rubbing his hands in chalk dust.

John nodded and loaded the bar appropriately, checking to ensure the locking pins were in place. He stood in position behind the bar and Lichtenstein gripped it, adjusting his fingers until he was comfortable, and lowered the bar to his chest before raising it carefully. Satisfied that his grip was good, he began benching the bar to his heartbeat.

John added another pair of weights to the bar when the Petty Officer set the bar down and stood by. Once Lichtenstein couldn't lift more without faltering, John racked the bar and they traded places. John started at the same point as his partner out of courtesy and pressed the weight to his heartbeat, slightly slower than Lichtenstein's.

"Add double this time," John instructed as he rested the bar on its post again. Lichtenstein nodded and piled on two more circular plates.

"Our pile's out," he chuckled.

"We'll borrow from someone else." John adjusted his grip and unloaded the bar from its rack. It was close to his maximum; he could feel the muscles of his chest and arms engaging as he lowered and raised the bar.

"Out of curiosity, Captain, what's your 1RM?"

John huffed. "I haven't measured it in years," he admitted.

"Would you like to?"

John nodded in agreement and racked the bar again. He sat up and signaled Master Chief Kite.

"Aye, Spartan?" Kite asked, coming over. It was a delicate balance they had finally agreed on in the training area: unless John specified he was taking charge, he had told the trainers to treat him like any of their soldiers.

"We'll need another couple piles," John told her.

Kite cast her eye up and down him. "You sure you can handle it?"

"Yes, sir," John replied.

"Alright, then. I was about to order a switch anyway." She whistled the three-note combination that told the Spartans to switch machines and secured two more piles of the circular plates. The two teams thus displaced stood by to watch, curious.

John lay back down on the bench and found a good grip on the bar. Lichtenstein loaded another pair of weights on the bar and nodded when they were secure. John could feel the strain as he lifted the bar and pressed it down and then back up. He only did it thrice and then lowered the bar back to its rest. Lichtenstein loaded two more weights on it carefully.

"Hanshaw, get in there and help spot," Kite ordered, motioning for John to wait.

Lichtenstein and Hanshaw stood side-by-side to catch the bar if John faltered. The older Spartan lifted the bar down and pressed it, feeling the strain intensify. However, he wasn't trembling yet, so he put the bar back.

With a glance at Kite, Lichtenstein loaded another hundred onto the press. "You're at eight hundred, Captain," he informed John.

John grunted in acknowledgement and brought the bar down. He could feel the tremble beginning in his shoulders and completed the press. The next hundred was harder but, despite Lichtenstein's worry, John complete it, too. He topped out at the thousand, however, unwilling to risk injuring himself by going higher.

Racking the thousand pounds of metal, John rolled his shoulders. The burn was comfortable and familiar. He sat up and noticed one of the Spartans handing a five-credit bill to another.

"Damn, Captain," Lichtenstein whistled, unloading the bar.

John shook his head slightly. "Douglass would be laughing at me right now if he were here."

"Douglass?" Lichtenstein blinked in confusion.

"My brother. He was our heavy weight." John could still remember Douglass's constant prodding to get him – and every other Spartan – to work on their bench press. He loved competition and wanted a "real opponent" on the machine, though no one could match him.

"Oh."

"Alright, ladies, you've had your break, now get back to work," Kite ordered, walking by.

John and Lichtenstein worked their way through the gym, trading the occasional comment but mostly in companionable silence. Once they – and everyone else – were sweating and thoroughly worked through, Kite ordered them to hit the showers and then the mess.

Though he had his own bathroom, John made it a point of his morning to shower with the team he had worked with. He jogged with the group towards the showers, meeting Kelly and her Rabbits on the way. Only two teams could fit into the showers at a time so the team leaders staggered the morning workouts to give each other room.

The soldiers quickly stripped, throwing their stinky morning gear into the large laundry machines that would give them a quick clean while the soldiers cleaned their bodies. John was one of the first into the showers; Kelly took the head next to him.

"How'd it go?" she asked cheerfully, turning on her shower.

"Good," John replied, running his hands through his hair and using his fingernails to scrub it. "And you?"

"We had a good time of racing each other as always." Kelly chuckled richly. "I noticed you measured your 1RM again."

"I only hit a thousand," John replied, answering the unspoken question.

"Only!" one of the Spartan IVs scoffed from the shower to John's left.

"Douglass would have a field day."

"I know," John assured her. The water turned cold, signaling that thirty seconds had gone by. John turned the water off and slicked his hair back. "You should see what yours is."

"Is that a challenge?" Kelly asked, grinning as she stepped out of the shower and planted her hands on her hips.

"No, just an observation. We both know who would win."

"Chicken." Kelly threw a towel at John and they quickly dried off.

"Five credits on the Captain," one of the IVs muttered.

"I heard that," Kelly warned, snapping her towel at the offending soldier, who jumped out of the way. The rest of the IVs laughed.

John extracted his dry fatigues from the laundry and quickly put them on. Then he towel-dried his hair and put the towel in the drier for the next group. The group moved quickly out of the room as the next pair of teams arrived; John followed them to the mess.

The morning menu never changed except for small things like having dried pineapple in the oatmeal instead of dried apple. John served himself a bowl of the oatmeal – today, it was stuffed with raisins – and a scoop of scrambled eggs the color of pus. The protein for the morning was slices of ham; he took two. Kelly skipped the eggs and took four slices of ham. They got a carton of milk each and sat down at one of the tables.

While the Spartan IVs made conversation while they ate, the two IIs concentrated on their food and finished quickly. They put their trays in the cleaner and separated again.

John returned to his quarters and changed into his day-wear, a compromise between his formal uniform and training fatigues. Then he sat down at his desk and pulled up the report from Crewman Schwartz.

It was thorough as always and included some observations John would not have thought of. Schwartz had charge of the ship; everyone knew the head Crewman was the one who really ran things. He had noted a missing supply manifesto and found it misfiled (and, his personal comment said, he had scolded the new recruit in charge of filing those manifestos). He also had set up the menu for the next week; John approved it, as he always did, with only a cursory glance. Noting the lunch scheduled for the day, he decided to make time to go to the cafeteria instead of taking his meal alone, as he usually did. Kelly loved squash and would be there as soon as the doors opened.

They were going through the replacement parts for both II and IV armor faster than anticipated. John made a note of that section of the report and sent it on to the team leaders. They would have to reduce the number of busted seals and dented armor pieces. The dents could be hammered out but they weakened the armor. He also sent it to Dr. West along with a note asking if there was a way to manufacture said pieces now rather than waiting for a resupply ship.

Then he read the reports that had come during the night from Earth. A large part of his job as Captain, he had found, was keeping up-to-date on news from other ships and within the military. He was particularly interested in news about Vern, but there was little enough of that. Most of the reports were concerned with repairing ships that had been damaged during the war or the shuttling of personnel back and forth between Earth and the defense armada.

Several reports concerned the inner politics of the government; while he was uninterested in it personally, Maximus had told him, in no uncertain terms, that Captains had a duty to their ship and their crew to be informed of policy changes and political movement. So, despite not understanding half of the subtle relationships in those reports, John read them diligently.

Maximus had also included a story from the public press in his "morning paper," as the AI called it. The headline caught John's attention immediately: _Hood Children Custody Case in Full Swing_. He scanned the article – it was much less factual than the military reports he was used to reading – for the important details. The court had taken up the case and Terry's estranged sister, Bianca, had filed for custody. While John had never met the woman, Terry had mentioned her a few times, always with thinly-veiled hatred.

"I thought you would want to be kept informed on their progress," Maximus said when John closed the file. The AI appeared on his desktop.

"Thank you, Maximus," John replied. He glanced at the clock; Dr. West would be coming any minute.

He minimized the reports he had managed to read – about half of the ones called to his attention by the AI and there would be more coming in throughout the day – and cast a glance around the outer room. It was spotless, as always; he wrote a quick note of thanks to the janitorial team and sent it off just as someone buzzed at his door.

"Come in," he said. Dr. West let herself in and sat down in one of the chairs on the other side of John's desk. "Good morning, Dr. West." She was wearing her usual attire, a button-down blue shirt and black pants underneath a white lab coat with a pen in the top pocket. Dr. West was nothing if not practical in her choice of clothing. Her brown hair was up in its usual bun, her brown eyes bright. She reminded John of Dr. Halsey in almost every way.

"Good morning, Captain. How are you?"

"Well enough. And yourself?"

"Good, good." Dr. West smiled. "And how is your back?"

"Healing well, doctor."

"Excellent." Dr. West crossed her legs at the knee and leaned back into the chair. "I've come to discuss enhancing the neural interface for the Spartan IV Rabbit team. They've been working to improve their reaction times recently." She quickly outlined the exercises the team had been doing, including the old-fashioned "catch a ruler" trick. "The Spartan IVs, at least, do have the wiggle room in their neural augmentations for it. I am less sure about the Helljumpers; I'd need to test each one to make sure they could handle it."

John nodded seriously. "How long would they need to recover from the augmentation?"

"From the actual surgery itself, a couple of hours perhaps. But there would be coordination issues – like what your team faced – for at least three days even with hard training."

"We have five days until we arrive, Dr. West. They need to be completely comfortable with their new speeds before we drop out of Slipspace and risk encountering hostiles. Is there any way to speed up that recovery time?"

Dr. West frowned slightly. "We could make the augmentations only to half of the group," she offered. "Then there would be half that could be counted on. I don't doubt the half to receive the augmentations will be ready, but just in case."

John thought about the proposal. He knew what kind of inter-team dynamics such a move would make. He tapped the call button for the AI; Maximus appeared instantly. "Call Kelly and Tuckkit here," he ordered. Maximus nodded and disappeared again.

"What kind of exercises would you have them doing to improve their recovery?" he asked Dr. West, turning his attention back to the woman.

"The first thing they will need is basic movement restructuring. They could end up hurting themselves – probably not badly, but bruises that can be avoided, should be – or others. So they will need to navigate simple tasks first, such as reloading their rifles."

John nodded. He remembered hours of practice doing menial tasks like that with his enhanced strength and speed. Loading a magazine hadn't been so difficult since he was first introduced to the large rifles soldiers carried at eight years old. "It's just repetition. They'll get it. But will they get it fast enough – especially if they are under _real_ attack and adrenaline boosts their speed even more."

"They won't have Spartan Time," Dr. West noted. "But they will be approaching that, so yes. You will need to set up some sort of live-fire situation to ensure they can handle the adrenaline rush and what it will do to them."

A buzzing from the door interrupted the doctor; John invited the person in. Kelly and Master Chief Tuckkit had arrived together. Kelly motioned for Tuckkit to take the seat next to Dr. West and leaned against the wall comfortably.

"Dr. West has been explaining her ideas about enhancing the reaction times of the Spartan Rabbit team," John told Tuckkit and Kelly. "We have five days until we arrive. She estimates that it will take them three days or more to recover and regain their original comfort with their enhanced speed. We need soldiers who are comfortable with themselves when we hit Slipspace – we will probably have a target immediately. What do you suggest?"

"It took us four days – but we had additional issues," Kelly said. "They won't grow, they'll just be faster. So it won't take as long."

John nodded. Tuckkit leaned forward slightly; he always did so before speaking. "If we make it some sort of competition between them, they will likely progress faster. They're very competitive, sir." He shot a glance at Kelly that told John the Spartan II had encouraged that competitiveness, possibly beyond what Tuckkit considered helpful.

"Would you feel comfortable enhancing half of the group and not the other half?"

Tuckkit frowned and shook his head immediately. "That would create a divide, sir, that we can't afford. My soldiers are close but they're not bonded yet. The Rabbit team is too new."

John nodded; he wasn't surprised. "There is also the issue of adrenaline. We will need to stimulate a battle environment in order to ensure they can handle their new speeds in the field."

Kelly nodded. "We could use the simulation room," she offered.

"Knowing it's a simulation won't make it real," Tuckkit disagreed. "They won't experience the real thing."

Kelly frowned and then straightened. "So we crash-course them. While they're still out from the surgery, we put them in the sim room, make it look like the medical bay, and run a boarding sim."

"Such an overload at first could tax their systems too much," Dr. West protested.

"Then give them a day to recover and work on their coordination, drug their dinner, and move them into the room once they're asleep." Kelly was clearly set on surprising the soldiers in the sim room.

Tuckkit nodded slowly. "That could work. They will be fairly fresh, too, since we won't do anything truly difficult the first day."

"Dr. West?" John asked, turning to the woman for her opinion.

"If there are no complications during the surgeries, I will green-light it," she said after a moment of thought. "I don't want a soldier's heart spasming from over-stimulation."

John nodded. "Then prepare your equipment and your soldiers and get it done as soon as possible." Kelly and Tuckkit stood and saluted; Dr. West stood and smiled in farewell. The three filed from the room.

Leranson arrived a mere five minutes later, right on time. "Good morning, Captain," he said, saluting. John returned the greeting and had him sit down to discuss his ideas. They were good ones that mostly revolved around mixing up teams and John ordered him to work out the details about room assignments with Schwartz. He warned Leranson to leave the Spartan Rabbits alone, however, as that relatively new group needed more bonding.

John had ten minutes to read more reports – he finished three – before Maximus interrupted to let him know that lunch was about to be served. The Spartan nodded with thanks and left quickly; he arrived at the mess hall with the first group of soldiers. Kelly was among them, as he had predicted. She grinned in greeting and they ate lunch together. Then John returned to his duties and Kelly headed for the medical bay where the Spartan Rabbits were being put under, she told him.

When John returned to his quarters, Maximus locked away the reports and ordered him to take a break and spend a little time on his own needs. He had lingered over lunch but still had forty-five minutes before the AI would willingly reopen the files. John spent several minutes straightening his formal uniform, which he would wear onto the bridge, and then donning it. Then he sat on his couch and immersed himself in a book from the shelves in his quarters. It was a tactical manual from before the Covenant War, and he found himself disagreeing with a lot of the more ethical arguments the author made.

Maximus appeared again just before the lunch hour was over and reminded John, not that the Spartan needed it, of his afternoon schedule. John replaced the book, marking his page, and sat down again behind his desk. Just as he was adjusting the chair, Linda knocked. John invited her in and they discussed what Linda had been doing with the pilots to prepare them for the landings they would be making in the tight bays of Jackal pirate ships. Then she formally requested her reassignment to the sniper team, since the pilots were self-sufficient, and John approved it. He set up her new orders and signed them; she wished him a good day and left with a little bounce in her step.

Glancing at the clock, John realized he might have time to finish the reports from the day so far if nothing interrupted him. He quickly accessed them and began scanning the documents. Master Chiefs Slaughbaum and Tuckkit made their reports in ten minutes and John only questioned them on a couple of points before releasing each one.

Thus, when John followed Tuckkit out of his quarters and turned to head to the bridge, the captain had finished all of the report reading that had come in so far that day. He entered the bridge, greeted the crew and his XO, and stood at the observation platform, hands behind his back. The bridge crew knew what they were doing, and Slipspace wasn't at all difficult to navigate through. In fact, Maximus did almost everything. However, the crew members sat their stations and reported activity as dutifully as though they were in the middle of a fire fight. They would be running a simulation this evening; Maximus appeared on the pedestal next to John's elbow and signaled that the simulation was running.

One of the bridge officers put a hand to her earpiece, frowning. She turned part-way around in her chair. "Captain! I have a strange signal on the long-range comm."

"Speakers," John ordered calmly. The woman turned around with a nod and patched the signal through; John could hear the faint music in the background. Maximus had chosen a mid-2300s ensemble this time.

"Bring weapons online," John ordered. The bridge alarm began blaring. The rest of the ship wouldn't be affected, but Maximus made the systems respond as though they were. A full-ship simulation was more difficult to coordinate so bridge simulations outnumbered them two to one. "Alert the ship."

"Aye, sir." Several officers immediately began transmitting messages to the appropriate sections of the ship. They warned the soldiers to gear up for battle, the crewmembers to attend their engineering and mechanics duties, and the non-com people to get the hell out of the way.

"Drop us out, Maximus." Maximus nodded and the bridge darkened slightly and then brightened. They hadn't truly dropped out of Slipspace – there was no jolt – but Maximus simulated the computer effects from the transition.

"Long range scanners online," one officer barked, putting the view from his station onto the main screen without prompting. "Six hostiles, sir. Small craft only."

"Find the mother ship." John looked at the simulated images. The drones were in a loose formation and idly circling a planet. "Scramble Longswords and engage."

"Mothership bearing down!" the first officer reported. The view on the main screen jumped; John could see the hull of a purple Jackal ship in the camera's field of vision. "Plasma lines warming, Captain."

"Engage shields and warn Longswords. Prepare MAC, Archer pods A through J, and the Demagger." The Demagger, as it was called, would confuse the magnetic fields guiding the plasma, but it had a limited range. The MAC's rounds had been humanity's best weapon during the Covenant war.

"Slipspace transition," a woman called. A second ship appeared just off the Kig Yar's starport bow; it, too, was a Jackal pirate ship.

John barked out a new heading and the camera views tilted accordingly. "Fire MAC and Archers," he ordered. "Order the Longswords to return."

"Aye, sir!" Several officers scrambled to obey but, despite the chaos, there was no confusion. John ordered his XO to find them an asteroid field and plot a course for it; Kent nodded and began searching the system. Maximus helped him.

The two ships turned on John's and moved into attack lines, their sides glowing as they prepared to fire. The weapons officer reported the MAC fired – there was no thump throughout the hull to warn them since it was a simulation, after all – and the Demagger ready. The MAC round streaked through space just behind a salvo of Archer missiles that would weaken the shields upon impact. They knocked the ship square on the nose; the MAC drove through to its belly and the Kig Yar ship crumpled. The other had fired, however, and Maximus turned his attention to directing the Demagger.

They avoided the first salvo of plasma but the second was already heating up. "Longswords in the bay, Captain," one officer reported.

"Where's our heading, Kent?" John asked, turning to the XO.

Kent reported the heading and the cameras tilted as the bridge crew hastened to obey. They sped towards an asteroid belt, the Kig Yar ship giving chase. While the _Odysseus II_ was larger than the Jackal ship, it had better maneuvering capabilities thanks to the human, Sangheili, and Huragok engineers that had designed it.

The ship slid through the asteroid belt with only a few cursory glances from the space rocks. The Jackal ship opted to go above the belt and was likely looking to ambush them on the other side. John ordered the ship to move up through the asteroids, bringing them out just underneath the Jackal ship. Another salvo of Archers and a MAC round took care of the enemy.

"Bring us back to the scouts," John ordered as the crew cheered the destruction. They quickly traveled back in-system to where the six drones were still sitting. "Deploy search team."

Three green dots, supposedly Pelicans loaded with soldiers in exosuits, joined the red hostiles on the screen. They gathered closer together; then one officer yelped. "Nuke detected, Captain!"

The Pelicans were already turning around, but it was too late; the screens fizzed with static as the nuke exploded, destroying the six hostiles as well as the inbound party. John scrambled the Longswords but the nuke had been an ambush, likely left by the Kig Yar ships in case they had been defeated. He did not think the Jackals would think of doing it, but he had to admit that Maximus often threw a twist into the simulations that John wasn't expecting.

The system was quiet; Maximus ended the simulation and reported the casualties. They had destroyed two Kig Yar ships and lost eighteen men and women along with three Pelicans. Their Archer missile banks were being reloaded, as was the MAC.

"Not too bad," Maximus opined as the bridge crew settled back into the boring task of watching the blank screens and listening to static.

"I should have swept for nukes," John disagreed, shaking his head slightly. Eighteen of his soldiers had, hypothetically, died for his lack of foresight.

"You'll get the hang of it, sir," Kent added encouragingly. "We'll keep running sims."

"If I miss something like that again, tell me," John ordered the young man.

"I didn't think of it either, sir. Who would expect Jackals to think of that?"

John looked at the main screen and leaned over the table slightly. "We have to think outside the box," he said quietly. "We have a very limited amount of resources available. We can't afford those kinds of losses."

"Aye, sir." He and Kent spent thirty minutes discussing the simulation and what they could have done differently. Kent noticed that the magnetic field from an outer-system giant could have also been used to interfere with the plasma's guidance system; they wouldn't have needed to use the DeMagger which sometimes faltered.

"On the other hand, we might have been pulled into its gravity well, and if a plasma bolt took out our engines, we would've been royally screwed," Kent mused.

John nodded. He had been thinking the same.

"Sir, you're expected in the gym," Maximus chimed in.

John looked up to find that the clock was already at 1855. He ran quickly through the almost ritualistic "handing over the wheel" exercise, giving Kent the reins, and returned to his quarters. There, he changed out of his formal uniform and back into his training gear. He double-timed it down to the gym and just made it on time.

Kite ran the team around the running track, which was absent of Rabbits, and then they worked on their battlefield protocols. John enjoyed the work as they used the weight machines as cover and practiced invading and defending certain targets. He rotated, like everyone else, through being leader and subordinate in each smaller group.

An hour and a half later, hot and pleasantly tired, John left the group to continue their work and returned to his quarters. He showered quickly and then dressed in his more usual gear to read the reports that had come in since 1600. There were only a couple that he read in detail; the others he skimmed for important content. Maximus appeared just as he closed the last file.

"Will you want dinner in tonight, sir?" he asked. "Mess is about to close."

John nodded his thanks and stood, making for the mess hall. He made it just before the last bell rang and ate a hasty dinner. Walking towards the medical bay, he realized he had no idea what he'd just eaten, too engrossed with his duties.

He entered the med bay and found Dr. West consulting with one of the doctors in the lobby. They turned at his approach; Dr. West motioned for him to wait a moment. After a few more exchanged words, the pair separated. Dr. West smiled and offered her hand. John shook it.

"The operations all went smoothly," she reported. "The soldiers recovered from the surgery more quickly than I anticipated and insisted on working on their coordination. They're in Bay Three with Kelly and Master Chief Tuckkit going through weapons drills, last I checked."

John nodded his thanks and left again. He made his way down to the third bay, passing a few people in the hallway who saluted. As promised, the Spartan Rabbit team were in the bay, sitting or lying on the floor as they dissembled and reassembled their rifles.

"Captain on deck!" Kelly barked when he stepped into the room. The Rabbits jumped to their feet – John noticed many of them were already steady on their feet – and saluted smartly.

"Back to your duties," John ordered, returning the salute. He spotted Tuckkit and went to hear the man's report. It was mostly favorable; some soldiers were struggling with accommodating the new response times but, on the whole, the group was coming back up to speed much faster than anticipated.

"And their plans for this evening?" John asked quietly.

"Maximus is preparing the sim room. They've just eaten. We'll put 'em to bed." He turned to address the Spartans. "Pack 'em up, Rabbits! Dr. West ordered extra sleep for you, so hop off to bed!"

The soldiers stood, saluted their commander, and trotting out in neat lines. John, Kelly, and Tuckkit watched them go and then gathered to discuss their plans for moving each soldier into the sim room.

"Schwartz had a bunch of extra cots brought into the room," Kelly reported. Her anticipation was infectious; John decided he was going to attend the simulation. "Maximus decided on a boarding simulation by Jackals to enhance the real-ness. But he promised a couple surprises."

"How is their coordination?"

"Improving faster than ours did," Kelly snorted with a grin. "There were a few bruises and thumbs pinched in magazines at first but almost all of them can reload faster now. Tomorrow, we'll see how they do in responding to something being thrown at them."

John nodded. "Just don't put anyone in the med bay. We can't afford to lose anyone this early."

Kelly hummed in agreement.

"They should be asleep any minute," Tuckkit estimated. "Will you join us, Captain?"

John nodded and Tuckkit led the way to the small garage assigned to house the Rabbits. The group had chosen to forsake the more comfortable bunks and, in the tradition of the Spartan IIs, take over one room for all of their leisure and sleep.

Tuckkit opened the door and they looked in to find all of the soldiers sprawled over their cots. A couple hadn't even made it that far and were passed out on the floor.

"If I had a pen…" Kelly muttered, smirking. She rolled the nearest soldier over and picked him up. She stacked two soldiers over her shoulders like sacks of potatoes. "They didn't shower, either." She crinkled her nose and headed for the sim room.

Between them, Tuckkit, Kelly, and John managed to move all of the soldiers over in three trips. They laid the fifteen men and women out on the cots and then stacked the simulation rifles – identical on the outside to real rifles but loaded with blanks – and ammunition near the simulated doorway. Without the holographics running, the room was a series of panels on the floors that could rise to form barriers, blank grey walls, and a dark ceiling.

"We're ready, sir," Maximus said when the three had moved into the observation booth next door. The cameras would allow them to watch the action.

"The drugs should be through their system; they'll wake up pretty quick," Tuckkit added. He glanced at John, but the Captain nodded for him to give the order. It was his group, after all. "Begin the sim, Maximus."

"Aye, Master Chief." The room below immediately started blaring the alarm klaxon from speakers in the walls and ceiling. The holographics snapped into place, simulating the garage with a door at the far end.

The soldiers jolted upright; those on the floor fumbled about, confused. John's voice barked from the speakers: "We're being boarded by Jackals. Gear up and clear the hallways." Then an explosion cut off the broadcast, following by a voice screaming that John recognized. Maximus had warped Kent's voice into a scream to add to the realism.

The soldiers, shouting in confusion, latched onto the orders and ran for their gear. Watching closely, John noticed that some of them missed their rifles, their arm moving to grab them more quickly than they had expected. Others' fists closed prematurely.

After some confusion and sorting out of gear, the soldiers hurried out of the room. The other side was simulated to look like the hallway; they split into two groups, one turning towards the bridge and the other towards the engine room.

Maximus spun up a patrol of Jackals that ambushed the bridge team. The Spartan Rabbits managed to massacre the aliens, only losing one soldier – who was, really, knocked out by a dark from a hole in the wall – and moving on quickly. The darts would paralyze the soldiers until a signal from the room's computer released them. The engine room team, meanwhile, got to the door of the engineering section and set up a defensive position there.

Maximus directed a party of Jackals to attack the defending team and then unleashed another on the bridge group. They lost two soldiers this time, and John noticed that the group paused as a collective to reload. They would have to work on reloading on the fly.

Maximus had noticed the same thing and sent in a larger group of Jackal holograms, which would require the soldiers to reload in the middle of a firefight. Several pieces of "debris" formed excellent cover for the aliens; the Spartans stormed the position and took it over, though John could hear cursing as they jammed thumbs and fingers in magazines. One person caught the web of their thumb in their pistol's slide and started bleeding; he quickly wrapped up the hand.

"I'm glad we didn't have to do this," Kelly muttered, glancing at John.

"We wouldn't have survived," he replied. "I couldn't even tie my shoes the first day without really working at it." Kelly chuckled.

The bridge team successfully entered the bridge to find it covered in blood and gore. Maximus had clearly taken a little creative license and the dead and burned bodies of most of the crew were strewn about like forgotten dolls. The team moved quickly, making sure there were no live people to evacuate, and then sealed off the bridge so the Jackals couldn't get in and vent the atmosphere from the ship.

Maximus led them, using Jackal patrols, towards the gym. They came across a dead Spartan II – it was John with a hole through his chest – and then another patrol of Jackals.

"Was it necessary to kill me?" John asked as Maximus, appearing to watch the carnage from his post in the observation booth's holographic pedestal, grinned maliciously.

"Probably not. But I felt that it would add to the heightened adrenaline."

John grunted and turned his attention to the defending group. They had taken several losses from the attacking Jackal parties but were holding their own.

"Oh, look, it's the main event," Maximus drawled. A thunderous roar made everyone's heartbeats increase. "I call him La."

A massive Hunter charged the bridge team from behind a screen of Jackals. It was a hologram so it couldn't really attack them, but it stopped just short of the group and stomped. The floor panels shook, simulating the thud of the creature's weight against the deck. Its plasma cannon warmed and fired; the Spartans scattered but three were judged "dead' by the AI and shot with darts.

Most of the team "died" in taking down the Hunter due to the cramped quarters. The stragglers fought through the Jackal team and made their way back to the engine room group, clearing the corridors along the way. Only five Rabbits remained "alive" in the simulation.

"One more and then I think we should call a halt," Maximus judged, bringing up the soldier's biosigns. All had the usual signs of stress but they were approaching the unhealthy limit.

"Alright. Throw in a big party," Tuckkit ordered, leaning forward.

"Aye, aye, sir!" Maximus grinned and turned back to the viewscreens. Another party of Jackals stormed the defending team and overpowered them. The last soldier fell still shooting at the holographic enemies, his finger paralyzed on the trigger.

"And that's a wrap." Maximus lit up the sim room and deactivated the paralyzing agent. The soldiers groaned as they rolled to their feet and looked around, stunned.

John, Kelly, and Master Chief Tuckkit walked into the room just as the ones who had been "killed" early on were helping their comrades to their feet.

"It was just a sim?" one muttered angrily, sucking on a blood blister on his hand.

"You needed to see what it would be like to fight with enhanced reflexes," Master Chief Tuckkit told the group. "And now you know."

"Sir, permission to speak frankly?" one of the Rabbits asked.

"Granted."

"Fuckin' A." There were several laughs of agreement.

"Good to see you alive, Captain," a younger woman yelled at John. "I knew it was a dream."

John raised his eyebrow. The invincibility of Spartan IIs was legend despite the very real KIAs next to twenty-nine black-taped names.

"_Now_ you're released to your beds," Tuckkit told the group. "Hop off, Rabbits."

"I'm sleeping with one eye open from now on," the man with the wrapped hand muttered as the group trooped through the door.

"I'm going to have nightmares for weeks."

"Just don't wake me up, Tiny."

"Anyone know where my pants went?"

"You charged into a battle without pants?"

"Shut up!"

"Fuck, I'm glad they don't have charge of our training."

"I'm sleeping in."

"Like hell you are."

"Fuck you."

The group's interplay faded as the Rabbits trotted back to their garage. Master Tuckkit wished the Captain and Kelly a good night and headed for his own quarters. Schwartz would arrange to clean up the sim room of the stray cots and weapons.

John headed for his quarters; Kelly wanted to follow him but turned towards her own room at the branching hallway instead. Maximus was on his desk when John let himself into the outer room.

"A good showing, sir," Maximus said.

"How many reports came in?" John asked, sitting down.

"None that I judged important enough for your attention. It's already midnight. You should get some sleep, Captain."

John nodded. "Wake me at 5 again," he ordered.

Maximus huffed but agreed. The Captain disappeared into his quarters and quickly undressed. He attended to his nightly hygienic ritual and then collapsed into the bed. The lights shut off automatically and he closed his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: First Contact**

"Five minutes to re-entry, Captain," Maximus reported.

John nodded, looking around the bridge. His crew were calm outwardly, but the room – and the entire ship beyond it – thrummed with expectation. They were about to re-enter real space on the edge of the Eayn system. Maximus had plotted their course to bring them out beyond the range of any sensors near Eayn itself, but the ship was on full alert in case something went wrong.

Kent, standing just behind and to the right of John's elbow, was tapping his foot excitedly. John ignored the incessant rhythm – no one else could hear it – and turned his attention to the view screen. "Prepare shields."

"Aye, Captain." The bridge's computers hummed.

"Wind up long-range scanners and target Eayn. Set close-range to roaming. Prepare comm interception protocols."

"Aye, sir!" several officers replied, turning to their respective duties.

"Bring ship up to muster."

"All troops, report to your assigned bays," the comm officer ordered over the ship's PA. "Engineering, prepare to drop us out of Slipspace. All crew, secure all loose articles."

John and Kent braced themselves against the main viewscreen table as the countdown continued its slow pace. "Dropping out in three… two… one…" Maximus echoed the visual clock. The ship's computers paused to handle the change; the ship bumped as it dropped out of Slipspace smoothly.

"Shields up, sir," Ensign Birchwood announced.

"No threats detected, Captain," Ensign Mahoney added after a moment.

"Long range scanners report three ships in the vicinity of Eayn."

"Comm traffic heavy, sir."

"Get translators on it," John ordered the comm officer, Ensign Shepherd. "Order ship to come down from full alert. Shields down, Birchwood."

"Aye, Captain."

"Sir, I found us a parking spot," Maximus chimed in, highlighting a path that would take them into orbit around a small gas planet resembling Neptune.

"Bring us in, Maximus." The AI saluted and the camera angles titled as the ship came about to its new heading.

"Captain, translators online and functioning. I've got the comm traffic from the _Ascendant Hammer_."

"Sir, encrypted channels secured," Ensign Shepherd added.

"Send details to all squad leaders," John ordered Shepherd before turning back to the Ensign with the _Hammer's_ radio. "How many frequencies are working?"

"I count three – no, four, sir."

John nodded and ordered three other ensigns up from the personnel quarters to monitor the radio so that each person would be responsible for the chatter from one frequency. They arrived at a run and saluted hastily before attending to their duties. The bridge was a little crowded as a result.

"Sir, I have a command channel encrypted," Ensign Shepherd said after a few minutes of silence in the room. John ordered him to send it to the squad leaders; they would use it to communicate with the Captain and the bridge. Then he and Kent leaned over the main view-screen. Eayn was the center point of the map Maximus had brought up for them; it was surrounded by three ships, as promised. The long-range sensors picked up a leaking nuclear reactor core – very old technology, likely salvaged from a dead human ship – on one of them.

"Sir, orders from _Destructive Sail_ indicate another ship is inbound and due to arrive in less than an hour," Ensign Ainley called from her station as Kent and John were discussing the leaking reactor's possibilities as a weapon. "Putting coordinates on-screen."

John looked at the main viewscreen to see they would have to haul ass to make it to the point where the ship would drop out of Slipspace. They could not make an in-system jump without lighting themselves up to the Jackal's ships. "Maximus, set course for interception point," he ordered. "Baxter, prepare to scramble incoming ship's comm. Shepherd, get insertion teams in Pelicans and alert the Longswords. Clark, run final diagnostic check on weapons systems and prepare for ship-to-ship engagement."

"Aye, Captain," the AI and three Ensigns responded.

"How many teams should go in the first wave, sir?" Kent asked, calling up the ship's roster on the table's holographic panel.

"Send Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie," John ordered. "Have Delta and Echo standing by for back up." That would put forty-five soldiers on the ship, a mix of thirty Marines (including fifteen Helljumpers) and fifteen Spartan IVs. "And send Tuckkit's group to secure the bridge first thing," he added.

"Including 087, sir?"

_She'll skin me alive otherwise,_ John thought to himself, nodding to his XO. "Attach her permanently to the group until further notice. Assign 104 to Delta and 058 to Sierra." Delta was the group of Spartan IV hand-to-hand experts under Slug. The Sierra team was a mixed group of Marine, Helljumper, and Spartan IV snipers.

Working with Engineering, Maximus just managed to bring the ship to within a Pelican's range as Ensign Mahoney barked a warning about the Slipspace hole about to open. The blue hole yawned in front of the ship's cameras, treating everyone to the view of a Jackal ship coming at them head-on.

"Jam signals and up shields," John ordered as the ship glided through the event horizon.

There was a squawk of alarm on the Jackal ship's frequency and then the jamming activated. Ensign Ainley reported that the Eayn ships had heard the sound and were demanding a repeat. She scrambled a signal that would simulate a broken radio signal as though the incoming ship's comms had fried in the transition.

"Open bay doors and send boarding parties," John ordered. "Alert medical to stand by for casualties."

"Sir, would you like to address the boarding parties?" Kent asked quietly. John glanced at his XO and then nodded. While posed as a question, Kent was actually offering a suggestion in a way that wouldn't undermine the captain's authority on the bridge. John was grateful; he hadn't even thought of doing so.

"Shepherd, give me a link to boarding parties," John ordered the ensign.

"Done, sir," the ensign reported. He had already opened the frequency, expecting just this. John nodded his thanks.

"Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Hotel, this is Captain S-117. Respond. Over."

"Hotel copies, over."

"Alpha copies, over."

"Bravo hears ya, over."

"Charlie's listenin', sir. Over."

John nodded; he was now speaking to all of the soldiers in those four squads. "You'll be landing on the Jackal ship in two minutes. Hotel, take the bridge and get their comms offline ASAP. Alpha, you're in charge of their engines. Bravo, Charlie, split up and kill anything in your way. We take no prisoners. Good luck, soldiers. Give 'em hell."

"Oo-rah!" the soldiers responded in a ragged cheer.

Shepherd left the radio frequencies for the teams on in the overhead speakers so John could listen in on the teams' progress.

"Alright, ladies, you'd better have your panties on 'cause we're about to hit Jackal central!" John recognized the voice of Master Chief Chip Bunnet, squad leader for the Bravo team of Helljumpers.

"You heard the man; let's give 'em hell," Sergeant Jacob Hay told his team. "Strap up and stick a cork in your ass."

"Tucker, if you don't stow that shit, I'll make you eat it!" Tuckkit snapped.

"Sorry, Chief," Tucker, a Spartan IV with a streak of mischief, replied. He didn't sound contrite.

John turned his attention from the interplay between the team members to the bridge crew. They were giving reports – the squawking "broken radio" had successfully thrown the homeworld's comms for a loop and they were ordering the ship to park in orbit and wait for a maintenance crew to come aboard.

Meanwhile, the Jackal ship – its name the usual unintelligible Jackal squawking translated into _Exuberant Lifetaker_ – had spotted the _Odysseus II_ and were warming up plasma lines.

"Get Longswords out there," John ordered as the Jackal's bays opened to spew forth small attack ships. They headed straight for the Pelicans and the Longswords streamed forward to protect the personnel carriers.

"Spinning up Demagger," Maximus added. "Though we'll need to be careful about hitting our own people."

John nodded to show he'd heard and ordered the Pelicans and Longswords to ignore the small craft and get into the Jackal ship as quickly as possible. The Longswords defended the Pelicans as they streaked towards the purple hull. The bay doors were still open; the Pelicans disappeared inside.

"Call Longswords back," John ordered. "Target drones with Archer Missiles, pods A through D."

"Aye, Captain," Ensign Clark replied. He made the necessary targeting solutions with Maximus' help. One Longsword was trailing smoke and blew up half-way back to the shelter of the bay; the pilot ejected but was killed by an errant piece of debris.

"Longswords docked, sir."

"Firing!" Clark called before John needed to give the order. Archer missiles streaked towards the enemy. The small craft disappeared in puffs of smoke and debris.

"Plasma guns have a lock, sir," Birchwood called. "They're firing."

"Fire starboard thrusters, 30%," John ordered. "Maximus-"

"Already got the Demagger on it, sir," the AI interrupted. His avatar's face was a frowning mask of concentration.

The ship lurched as the thrusters fired. One plasma blob streaked past, just missing them. Maximus and the Demagger caught a second; the third slammed into their shields just under the ship's nose.

"Shields holding," Birchwood reported. "But we can only take a couple of hits like that."

"Fire Archer missile pods E through J, target their engines," John ordered tersely.

"We won't punch through their shields," Clark replied, confused.

"Just the missiles. I don't want to gut the ship with our men on it. Give them something to chew on, Clark."

"Aye, sir." Clark turned back to his station.

"They're firing again, sir!"

"Starboard thrusters, 50%."

"Answering 50%."

Maximus caught two of the bolts this time; the third barely missed their hull again, crackling along the shields.

"Bridge, this is Hotel command, come in!" the radio on the speakers suddenly squawked.

"This is the Captain," John replied, turning his attention to the teams.

"Enemy bridge is secure, Captain, but they want it back. I don't know how long we can hold it."

"Destroy comms and gut the ship's computer then get out of there and give Alpha a hand if they need it. Captain out."

"Plasma lines cooling down," Clark called.

"Comm traffic from the ship has stopped," Shepherd reported a few minutes later.

"That maintenance ship is almost within range to find us on scanners, Captain," Mahoney reported.

"How long, Mahoney?"

"Twenty minutes, sir."

"Alpha, status report," John ordered, directing his attention to the radio.

"Engineering's shit, Captain," Kit replied immediately. "I dunno what the hell this thing is, but we're gonna blow it up and hope that it cripples the ship."

"Get it done and get out of there. Bravo, Charlie, report."

"Two wounded, sir," Bunnet reported. "Most of the pirates were in their bunks; we're finding the stragglers and crew now."

"Get back to the _Odysseus_," John ordered.

"Aye, Captain. Bravo and Charlie out."

"Hotel, come in."

"This is Hotel, go, over."

"Change of plans. Split up and run through the ship; kill everything not human. No survivors. Then get back here. You have fifteen minutes."

"Aye, sir!" Tuckkit barked orders, splitting his team into five groups.

"Prepare to receive Pelicans, warn medical we've got wounded, and plot course back to our parking spot," John ordered the bridge crew.

"We're not going to destroy the ship, sir?" Maximus asked.

"We'll let their maintenance find a ghost ship."

"Strike fear into the hearts and minds of the locals." Maximus tilted his head slightly. "I didn't think Spartans knew subtlety."

John ignored the jibe. The bridge crew attended to their duties with only a few hiccups. Alpha reported that they had taken out what looked like an engine and returned in their Pelican. Bravo and Charlie were right behind them and took their wounded to the med bay. Hotel was the last to return and barely made it before Maximus closed the bay doors and activated the cloaking technology that would help hide them from the maintenance ship just coming into scanner range. The AI set the ship to drifting away from the pirate ship and back towards their parking spot.

"Sir, the maintenance ship has docked with the ship and will discover the dead soon."

"Keep me updated," John ordered.

"Aye, Captain."

_~~Elsewhere~~_

"How did it go?" Linda asked Kelly. The pair were in the garage with their armor; the technicians had carefully checked over Kelly's armor after she returned from the ship and now the pair were cleaning it while they talked.

"Pretty basic infiltration," Kelly answered, rubbing vigorously at a spot of Jackal blood on her armor. Linda grabbed a soft cloth from the pile of cleaning tools on the cart and began buffing a piece of Kelly's armor.

"There probably won't be a lot of work for the snipers," Linda said after a few minutes of silent work.

Kelly hummed in agreement and put her boot in the "cleaned" pile. Linda picked it up and began buffing it. "How was sitting here and acting as backup?" Kelly teased.

"Not even backup," Linda disagreed. "My unit hit the gym."

"Huh."

_~~Later~~_

John let his fingers drum on the desktop as he considered his report. The ship was asleep; Maximus had faked a yawn several times, trying to induce the Spartan to sleep. He was now simply standing on the holographic projector pad.

"Very thorough, sir," the AI murmured.

John hummed and sent the report, glancing at the clock. It was close to 1 AM. "Wake me in four hours," he ordered the AI.

"You should consider sleeping in," the AI replied.

John shook his head and stood, stretching his back. "I'm training in the morning."

"Very well, Captain." The AI disappeared. John let himself into his bedroom and closed the door. With a quiet yawn, he stripped off his formal uniform and changed into a pair of shorts. Once he had brushed his teeth, he fell into bed and rolled onto his side. The lights dimmed even as he fell asleep.

_~~Elsewhere in the ship~~_

Maximus activated the dimmest light setting in the room assigned to Spartan-087, Kelly. Though hardly bright enough to see the outline of her in bed with the camera, the light roused the woman and she sat up. Maximus slowly brightened the light.

"Something wrong?" she asked, already sliding out of the bed.

"I woke you because you asked to be notified if I was worried about our Captain," Maximus replied, speaking through the room's comm unit.

"Is John still awake?" she asked incredulously, eyeing the clock.

"No, he just went to bed. However, he insists on being woken for training in four hours."

"I can't counter his direct order, Maximus." Kelly sat on the edge of the bed, blinking owlishly in the room's half-bright lights.

"No, I know. But you could speak to him – later today. Remind him that he needs his sleep like any mortal man. And maybe remind him that he's here as a Captain first and foremost, and the Captain cannot get sick or too badly sleep-deprived."

Kelly nodded and climbed back under the covers. "What was he doing up so late?"

"Worrying over his report," Maximus answered, dimming the lights again.

"He took – what? – six hours to write that thing?" Kelly snorted in disbelief.

"Yes, and questioned each and every word's necessity." Maximus let some of his annoyance show in his tone. "The final report is half the length of the usual action report, but it covers everything important."

"I'll tell him to listen to you more," she promised with a chuckle. "Thank you for notifying me, Maximus."

"You're welcome, Master Chief. Sleep well."

"I plan to." Kelly turned over onto her side and crossed her arms, staring in the darkness at the opposite wall as she considered the AI's request. John's stubbornness in perfecting his report didn't surprise her, nor did his decision to join the training groups in the morning. Of course, she was still unhappy that he had made that decision and she would most certainly discuss it with him in the morning.

_~~Later~~_

Kelly pushed the buzzer at the door to the Captain's quarters. There was a short pause and then the door unlocked and opened. She stepped inside to find John, in his fatigues, sitting behind his desk.

"Kelly, come in," he said, motioning to a seat. "I'll be right with you." The Spartan turned his attention back to a document on his desk, letting Kelly get a good look at him. While Spartans were trained to be tough, time and war had told on them all, and she could see the tiredness in John's eyes, much as he might try to hide it. She also recognized the slight tensing of his shoulders that said he would not be in any sort of receptive mood.

Ignoring the offered seat, Kelly walked around the desk and stood behind John, putting her hands on his shoulders and probing for the knots of tension. Not ungently, she began working them out; John let her do so and closed the document only to open another.

"How many reports have you read today?" she asked quietly.

"Twenty-three," John replied. "There's a few more to go."

"Define a few."

"Six."

Kelly looked at the clock and then at the AI's avatar standing on the desk. "Maximus, what is John's schedule today?"

"The captain has a scheduled meeting at 9:30, Master Chief," Maximus answered before the captain could intervene. John huffed.

"Then 'til 9:30, you're mine," she told John, pulling him back in his chair until he couldn't see the desk's display. He looked up at her, exasperation in his eyes.

"Kelly, I've got to read these reports," he argued. Kelly tugged his hair to keep his head down against the back of his chair.

"Is there anything life-threatening in the reports?" Kelly asked, directing the question to Maximus.

"Nothing, Master Chief," the AI replied.

"Hear that? Come on." Kelly tugged on John's collar, threatening to rip it. John stood reluctantly.

"I could just order you out," John reminded her.

"Of course you could, but you won't."

"Why not?"

"Because I wouldn't listen to you. Now, gym or shooting range first?"

John's lips twitched, indicating that he was trying not to smile. "Gym, then," he replied quietly. Kelly nodded and motioned for him to precede her into the hallway. They walked to the gym silently except to reply to the odd soldier they passed, each of whom stood to the side and struck a smart salute.

The gym was occupied by several teams training; John released them back to their work as soon as they saluted. The two Spartans crossed to the boxing ring and removed their shoes, setting them neatly at the edge of the mats. They slipped under the ropes simultaneously.

"I'll go easy on you," Kelly teased, bouncing on her toes.

John rolled his eyes and struck. Kelly slipped out of the way and then set herself for her own attack. She aimed a punch directly at John's solar plexus; he blocked it and jabbed at her ribs.

"So, how did your report go?" she asked, avoiding a strike to her head.

"Fine," John replied, catching her fist. She threw him over her hip; he rolled with the fall and sprang back up.

"Keep your elbows in," Kelly scolded, catching John by the elbow and throwing him to the mats. John grunted with the impact and rolled away from her descending knee. Kelly chased him to the end of the ring where he managed to trip her and get her on his level. They rolled around as they wrestled for position.

Kelly saw stars when John slammed her back and head into the mats. He straddled her hips and caught her wrists, crossing them over her chest to keep her arms down. An experimental wiggle told her that she was caught; she went limp to indicate her surrender.

John immediately released her wrists and stood, offering her a hand. She gripped it and levered herself to her feet. "Good bout, but you're losing your touch," she teased, grinning.

"Care to go again?" John asked, raising an eyebrow.

Kelly shook her head. "Let's go shoot a bit." The pair, with John in a better mood, went to the shooting range. Linda was practicing with a pair of her fellow snipers on the simulated longer ranges, but John and Kelly went to the handgun side of the room. John grabbed a pistol and checked it over before loading a magazine in. Kelly slapped a pair of earmuffs over his ears and he handed her a pistol.

They fired separately for several minutes. John concentrated on accuracy and relaxing. Kelly let herself get lost in the faded booming. Once they had warmed up, she challenged John.

"Green or black?" John asked, putting his pistol on the bench.

"Black," Kelly answered, pushing the target retrieval button. The target lines quickly rolled back and John clipped the pieces of thin plastic to the lines. The targets illuminated as the lines rolled them back to twenty meters.

"Five rounds, loser buys lunch," Kelly said loudly.

John snorted and concentrated on his stance and then on his breathing. He went slowly, savoring the feeling of taking his time with the shot instead of firing at the first thing that moved. Kelly fired three times in rapid succession and then pulled her pistol up to check her aim. John made his shots more carefully. Once they had each fired five shots, Kelly set her pistol down and pushed the target retrieval button.

"John wins," Linda chuckled, slapping Kelly on the shoulder as she walked up. John had scored more points, hitting his target's bull's eye twice. "I hear you're buying lunch, Kelly."

"Good thing it's free," Kelly snorted, unloading her pistol and replacing it in the bank of weapons. John did the same and pulled Kelly's earmuffs off to hang them back on the wall next to his. She glared at him as she smoother her blue hair back down.

"I'll see you two for lunch, then. Have a good day." Linda saluted John and headed back into the range's simulation room.

"What is lunch today?" John asked as Kelly led the way to the showers.

"Rehydrated veg stew," Kelly answered. "With cornbread and slices of ham, so they say. I thought you always checked the menu."

"I haven't yet today."

"Slacker." Kelly smirked. "What's the news from the rest of the fleet?"

"Mostly routine reports," John answered, itching his chin. He could feel the stubble of his day-old beard scratch his palms and resolved to shave in the evening.

"How did everyone receive your report?"

"Favorably, on the whole. Some commented that it would have been more effective to destroy the ship and maintenance crew."

"Effective in what way?"

"More mystery. No sign that humans were involved."

"But less fear. The maintenance crew will return to Eayn with a report of a ghost ship and none of those vultures will know why."

John nodded. "Reports from the maintenance ship's crew have already reached the planet and has thrown them for a loop."

"When do you hit the bridge?"

"After my meeting. I'll be there for the rest of the day."

"I might have to come visit," Kelly chuckled teasingly.

John eyed her. "You should stick with your unit," he scolded.

"Tuck knows where I am."

"_Master Chief_ Tuckkit."

"Yes, Captain." Kelly flipped him a sardonic salute.

"Kelly," John replied warningly.

"_Master Chief_ Kelly to you, sir."

"I'm serious."

"You need to be less serious. Maximus told me you got four hours of sleep last night and spent six hours on your report."

John tilted his head silently in a gesture Kelly recognized as his non-committal shrug. "Yes, I did." They fell silent as a soldier passed before starting up their conversation again.

"John, that's not good for you. Don't do it again."

"I can't promise that," John replied, slightly irritated. "I needed to make my report – and I was expected at morning training."

"John, you're the captain. We just had our first engagement with the enemy. You weren't expected at training by anyone except me, and I only knew you were coming because I know you. You have reports to write, debriefings to hold. We're your soldiers; _we_ have training to do."

"Kelly, I'm a soldier," John said, stopping. "I can't let myself get out of training shape." Kelly turned to face him, leaning on the wall.

"I know, John," Kelly replied, smiling gently. She touched his shoulder gently to let him know that she was sincere. "But your own health and capabilities are important, too. We can't have a sleep-deprived captain running the ship. It's a sacrifice of command."

John frowned. He knew that Kelly was right and simply did not want to admit it. However, he did lean his cheek against her hand, enjoying the sensation of her smooth skin against his. She rotated her hand until her palm rested over his left jaw, her finger tips just under his ear lobe. "I'll be glad to have a real captain in charge again. But you're right. You and Maximus both."

She smiled. "So, you'll give up morning training and get to sleep at a reasonable time?"

"Barring any emergencies," John promised, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. They continued on their way. "But I'll still do evening training."

"We could train as a unit again," Kelly suggested, ruffling his hair playfully. "In the evenings. For an hour or so. Then you would get a decent workout and we could still train with everyone else."

John nodded thoughtfully. "That sounds like a good plan."

"I should return you to your quarters, sir," Kelly said playfully. "I did promise Maximus to give you back before 9:30."

John sighed with fond exasperation. "Ladies first," he chuckled, opening the door to his quarters.

"Just in time," Maximus said in greeting when the pair entered the captain's outer room. "How was your break, sir?"

"Invigorating," John answered truthfully. He headed for his chair only to have Kelly grab his arm and pull him into a rough kiss. He returned it automatically and it sent a jolt through his body.

"Have a good day, John," Kelly murmured, lips brushing against his as she spoke.

"You, too, Kelly," he replied quietly. She smiled, pressed another quick kiss to his lips, and left quickly. John sat down behind his desk and pulled up the last report he had been reading when Kelly had interrupted him.

Meanwhile, Kelly wandered back to the gym, thoughts particularly happy. She reported back to Master Chief Tuckkit, who set her to sprinting races against two or three Spartan IVs again. She won two times out of three.

"How much more can you take?" one Spartan IV, Beth Winder, asked, gasping as she leaned against the wall.

"A lot," Kelly huffed back, grinning. "Ready to go again?"

"Do I look like a sadist?" Winder laughed.

"You look like a Spartan," Kelly answered. "It's not running until you throw up."

"You sick bastard," Winder snorted, jogging doggedly back to the line and taking her place.

"So they say," Kelly agreed cheerfully, following her sprint partner back to the front of the lines.


	3. Chapter 3

_Sorry for the long wait, but here is Chapter 3 (finally)!_

**Chapter 3: Preying on Pirates**

"I want that gear stowed, soldier!" Tuckkit barked, slinging his rifle across his back.

"Yes, sir!" the man in question replied quickly. He packed his bag up and closed it hurriedly.

"How much do you want to bet we're in and out within ten minutes?" Bookie asked, nudging Snake Eyes.

"Ten," Snake Eyes laughed.

"You're on." They bumped fists.

"I'm in," Dragon growled. "Ten says we're back in thirty."

"I'll bet for fifteen," another soldier added.

"Ya don't shut it I'll put a boot up yer ass," Naptime snarled, cracking open an eye. He always got shut eye at every opportunity, including on a Pelican ride to the new ship that had just showed up on the radar.

The ship was broadcasting SOS signals, indicating that they had a reactor leak. The incoming Pelicans had transmitters that had been torn out of Jackal dropships to cloak their approach.

The Captain had sent a larger force than last time, including more Pelicans to carry back cargo. As a result, the small ships carried fewer soldiers than usual. There were seven Spartan IVs in one Pelican, two Pelicans filled with Marines, and a pair filled with Helljumpers. The invasion would be swift and overpowering; they had to secure the target before he managed to escape.

_~~Back on the bridge~~_

"Captain, Pelicans are on approach for the hangar," Kent said.

John nodded and leaned over the map that showed him the position, in real time, of every ship in the system. The five Pelicans were approaching the damaged Jackal ship. Through the disguise of being a Jackal repair platform, Ensign Shepherd had gotten a full accounting of the ship's compliment – several groups of Jackal hit-and-run squads geared for space combat, a compliment of officers, and a single high-ranking official who had financed the crew. That officer had captured John's interest and he had ordered the Jackal captured if at all possible, intending to interrogate him about the Jackal's pirate fleet.

From the observation platform, Kelly leaned against a railing and watched the goings-on. She had never really taken the time during her years of service to learn much about the inner workings of a bridge. By the smoothness of communication between officers and Captain, however, she assumed that John was doing well in his role as Captain.

She had argued with John, wanting to be included in this raid, but he had firmly denied her request. Linda and Fred, too, had been sidelined – though at least _they_ were on back-up. Kelly huffed to herself again; John had kept her out of the fight because he was worried about a sprained wrist that was feeling just fine, thank you very much. But he had refused to listen to her and told her to "rest up."

Even as Kelly was thinking dark thoughts about her situation, she noticed John glance over at the observation platform, spot her, and frown slightly. She glared at him, holding his gaze before he looked away again. He could keep her out of combat, but short of a doctor's order, that was all he could do.

"Pelicans are in the bays, sir," Shepherd called out, drawing John's attention. He knew Kelly was angry that he had kept her out of the boarding teams, but to be fair, she had been favoring her injured wrist during practice the night before. His arguments – that they did not need her and thus she should heal while she could – had gone in one ear and out the other, it seemed. She took his refusal personally despite the care he had taken to be professional about it – posting the list of boarding parties publicly, sending orders to all team leaders.

The feeds from several soldiers' cameras popped onto the screens as the Pelicans lowered their hatches and the men and women streamed out, taking the Jackals in the loading bay by surprise. The attack was swift and deadly; within minutes, the bay was pronounced clear.

Tuckkit led his team towards the officers' quarters on the ship, hoping to take the high-ranking Jackal by surprise before he could escape on a dropship. Another team headed for the bridge; the third went for the engine room. They had two engineers with them who would diagnose the reactor leak and determine how to destroy the ship and make it look like an accident.

The first ship the _Odysseus II_ had destroyed had become a mystery to the Jackal high command, according to the chatter the comm officers had picked up and translated. For several days afterwards, orders had been sent to other ships to avoid gating into the system. However, with the human ship hidden and quiet, the Jackals had ignored the danger and allowed others to return home. The second ship had been quietly destroyed by a "navigation error" that had sent it crashing into a planet. This third ship would explode after its reactor leak went critical.

To keep the illusion alive, Shepherd was sending distress signals to Eayn that mirrored those of a badly damaged Jackal ship. He had also masterminded the original signals to the Jackal ship that had kept it from approaching Eayn and revealing itself to the planet's long-range scanners. Once the soldiers began their infiltration, however, the Jackal ship had realized it was under attack and was trying to punch through the scrambling signal that Shepherd had set up.

It was a tense few minutes on the bridge as John listened to the radio conversations of the soldiers storming the ship. Nearly ten minutes into the battle, Tuckkit reported that the group had found the officer in his room and had secured their target. John ordered him to assign two guards to return the prisoner to the Pelicans. Tuckkit went to assist the bridge team facing a heavier resistance than anticipated.

"Sir, they have a captive Huragok," one of the Marine squad leaders reported over the radio. "He's in bad shape, sir."

"Patch him up and take him to the bay. We'll bring him onboard." John clicked over his radio to talk to the engineering deck. "Captain to Engineering. Far Too Heavy and Quick Flying, please report to the bridge ASAP."

John had not interacted much with Huragok before the end of the war, but since then, he had become interested in the creatures. In the battlefield, they had been non-threatening; there were several recorded instances of them _helping_ the humans, in fact. They were kind of like curious little kids, interested in everything, and leaned _very_ quickly.

Far Too Heavy had volunteered to join the mission back on Earth, transferring to the _Odysseus II _from one of the repair platforms working to rebuild the Super-MACs that had orbited Earth. He had a reputation for being steady yet welcoming to new technologies and people, which was why he had been allowed to switch stations. Usually, Huragok engineers stayed with one ship or station until they died in an accident. "Curiosity killed the cat" had come back into style as a popular saying to describe these situations.

Quick Flying had come along after he expressed an interest in seeing combat. He was a young Huragok built after the end of the Covenant War. His three parents had named him in the traditional Huragok way, but he had changed his name after discovering he was faster in flight than his fellows. He liked being called Quickie after a crude joke from a Marine had captured his interest. Despite his nickname and fun-loving nature, the Huragok had distinguished himself on the _Odysseus II_, his first real assignment, as a good translator between human speech and Huragok pantomime.

Far Too Heavy and Quick Flying appeared on the bridge together. They waved their tentacles in a salute and waited; Quick Flying looked around curiously but Far Too Heavy watched John solemnly.

"The Jackal pirates captured a Huragok," John told the pair, bringing up the feed from a Marine's helmet as she carefully stitched a torn air bladder on the Jackal's prisoner. The two Huragok on the bridge waved their tentacles in distress at the sight of their injured comrade. "We're bringing him back and will take care of his wounds. But we need to make sure he isn't carrying anything that could harm us." Huragok had been known to unwittingly destroy entire squads, being strapped with explosives and sent into a human bunker. Humans had learned to welcome them but check to make sure they were not being used as weapons.

Far Too Heavy bobbed his head in an imitation of a nod and then gestured between himself and Quick Flying. John nodded. "Yes, you'll both be responsible for him. He's probably been abused and we don't want to scare him any further." Scared Huragoks tended not to recover unless totally reprogrammed, and John did not have the technology for that. "You'll be excused from your engineering duties – except for emergencies – until he's ready to join you. He will be in Hangar Three when our soldiers return."

Far Too Heavy nodded again, saluted, and floated back out of the bridge. Quick Flying hurriedly saluted, still trying to peer around at everything, before following the older Huragok out.

"Far Too Heavy and Quick Flying will meet you in Hangar Three," Kent was telling the Marines in charge of the injured alien. They acknowledged the implied order and helped the Huragok, who was listing to the side and barely floating an inch above the Jackal ship's deck plates, into a Pelican. They would wait until injured soldiers or supplies filled the bird before returning to the _Odysseus II. _

Kelly trotted along the hallway after the pair of Huragoks. If she was unable to help with the actual invasion, she could at least make herself useful in unloading captured supplies from the Jackal ship.

Quick Flying heard her and turned his head around. She smiled in greeting and he floated back to a position next to her. His tentacles waved in a manner that Kelly knew meant "greetings to someone I have not met."

"I'm Kelly-087," she said by way of introduction. Quick Flying trilled in understanding and moved his head closer to peer into her eyes. It was the Huragok's way of identifying Spartan II from regular humans, Kelly had been told. "I'm a Spartan II." The black band around her iris would have identified her to the alien anyway.

They came to Hangar Three and Kelly leaned against the wall to wait. Quick Flying stuck close to her while Far Too Heavy floated around the large room to make sure everything was in order. Kelly suspected he was a little nervous by the way he bobbed as he floated along.

Quick Flying trilled again, a little higher, and reached out a tentacle tentatively towards Kelly's blue hair. Huragok had learned not to touch humans unless invited, though Huragok culture said that touching was absolutely fine and encouraged. Kelly tilted her head slightly in invitation. For being so young, Quick Flying had learned good manners.

Quick Flying ran his tentacle through her hair, examining it curiously. He carefully selected one hair and broke his tentacle down into its smallest, near-microscopic cilia to probe it closely.

"It's dyed," Kelly explained.

Quick Flying made a peep that sounded questioning and ruffled through the rest of her hair, finding the darker roots where her natural hair color, a medium brown, was peeking through.

"I dye it blue because I like it that way," Kelly explained as the Huragok floated higher in order to examine her scalp. "It's a human thing."

Quick Flying made a sighing sound with one of his gas bladders. He yanked out a hair and floated over to Far Too Heavy to share his find. Kelly was amused, but when Far Too Heavy saw the blue hair in Quick Flying's grasp, he started waving his tentacles at the younger Huragok urgently. Quick Flying's bladders deflated slightly, putting him below Far Too Heavy's level. It was a submission gesture that confused Kelly for a moment before Quick Flying came back to her, peeping unhappily, and offered the hair back.

"It didn't hurt me," Kelly told the pair of Huragok. "It's alright, you can have it. But you should probably ask next time, alright?" Kelly smiled, a gesture the Huragok understood as meaning "good things are happening," hoping Quick Flying would take it to mean she was not angry at him.

Quick Flying floated a little higher, glancing between Kelly and Far Too Heavy, who was watching them curiously. Far Too Heavy finally nodded and Quick Flying made a cooing sound. He tied the blue hair around one of his tentacles.

"We're on approach," the pilot of the Pelican said over the hangar's PA system a few minutes later. Far Too Heavy sealed the door between the three beings and the bay so the outer doors could open. The Pelican glided in smoothly, touching down as far out of the way as possible. The outer bay doors slowly slid shut.

Kelly, Quick Flying, and Far Too Heavy quickly made it over to the Pelican but stood aside to let the medics retrieve the wounded human soldiers first. Then Kelly and another soldier carefully and gently helped a lopsided Huragok, scarred with old battle wounds and fresher abuse, float slowly out of the Pelican's cargo bay.

Quick Flying cooed in distress but Far Too Heavy moved into action without a sound. He explored the newcomer's body with his tentacles, probing both for wounds and for hidden devices that could give away the ship's location or explode. Finding none, he nodded to Kelly. The man who had helped carry the wounded Huragok out gave Quick Flying his position in supporting the alien and followed a nurse to the medical bay, his head bleeding sluggishly.

"What's his name?" Kelly asked Far Too Heavy.

Far Too Heavy made a credible imitation of a human shrug. He helped the Huragok balance himself more upright and Kelly stepped back to let the Huragok test his newly-balanced air bladders. Quick Flying hovered next to Kelly, peeping softly.

The stranger Huragok kept his head low and emptied his good gas bladders until he was skimming the surface of the deck. Far Too Heavy latched his tentacles onto the Huragok's head and closed his eyes. They floated, silently, for several long minutes while Quick Flying and Kelly watched.

Finally, with a defeated sigh, Far Too Heavy released the injured alien and turned to Kelly. The newcomer released all gas from his bladders and sank to the ground; Kelly blinked. She knew that to do such a thing was basically suicide for a Huragok, as they were unable to breathe without their gas bladders.

Quick Flying dashed over to the dying Huragok, his tentacles plucking at it in distress. Far Too Heavy shooed the young Huragok away.

"Is he too injured to survive?" Kelly asked, trying to guess what was going on. Far Too Heavy tilted his head sideways and then nodded, tentatively, before pointing to Kelly's chest. Kelly frowned. "Something is wrong with his hearts?" she hazarded. Far Too Heavy shook his head. Quick Flying pressed a hand to Kelly's heartbeat and then made soft, sad peeping sounds to the rhythm in her chest. "Emotional?" Quick Flying nodded.

Kelly nodded, looking at the wheezing Huragok. "We can ease his transition," she offered, nodding to the airlock.

Far Too Heavy shook his head solemnly and motioned for her to leave. Kelly nodded in understanding and left the two to watch over and then mourn their lost cousin. Once out of the bay, she jogged towards the bridge. On her way, she could hear some of the progress of the boarding parties as Pelicans returned with wounded or supplies and then left to pick up more from the Jackal ship.

John was, of course, on the bridge. Kelly asked for and received permission to step onto the bridge where she motioned for John to step away from the main view station for a moment.

"The Huragok committed suicide," she reported in an undertone. John's right eyebrow raised a tick. "Too emotionally compromised. Far Too Heavy and Quick Flying are with him."

John nodded thoughtfully. "The boarding parties are nearly finished securing the ship. Linda and Fred are going over with the science team as security escort; if you want to-"

"Sign me up," Kelly interrupted. John nodded, crinkling around his eyes telling Kelly he was holding back a smile. She struck a salute and dashed out, heading for the Spartan II's garage. Linda and Fred were already there, half-way into their armor. Sara had clearly been expecting Kelly as the Spartan woman's armor was already set out.

Kelly stood next to Fred and tried not to fidget as the technicians carefully sealed her into the heavy MJOLNIR suit. They took their time when they could, ensuring the proper fit and comfort. The Spartans, when given the chance, threw the armor on like yesterday's clothes.

"Security detail," Linda murmured over a private comm to the other two Spartan IIs once all three had their helmets on. "Feels like I'm green again."

"At least we're seeing some action," Fred replied. He sheathed a knife and clipped it to his belt.

"When did John decide to send over a science team?" Kelly asked.

"You didn't hear?" Fred shook his head slightly. "I thought you were on the bridge."

"They found a wounded Huragok so I went with Quick Flying and Far Too Heavy to see what I could do. He committed suicide."

Linda hummed sadly. Of the four Spartan IIs, Linda had become most fascinated with the peaceful aliens. "The ship's got something on it that looks like Forerunner tech," she explained to Kelly. "Tuckkit called it in and John wants the science team to check it out before we blow it up."

"And since Linda and I were twiddling our thumbs, he asked if we wanted to escort the team over. Besides him and Halsey, we've got the most experience with Forerunner tech in the battlefield. If it's a bomb, we might be able to recognize it before the geek squad does."

"Oh, good thinking, Captain 117," Kelly said sarcastically.

"Kelly," Linda sighed. Kelly shook her head slightly.

"Leave her be," Fred murmured privately to Linda. Linda huffed but nodded, strapping a full canister of biofoam into her armor's injection port. They finished gearing up in silence and headed out of the room.

"What was the Huragok's story?" Linda asked Kelly as they trotted towards the hangar bays.

"He was badly injured – physically and emotionally, I guess. He committed suicide once he got here and saw Far Too Heavy and Quick Flying."

"Did he say anything about the Forerunner tech?"

Kelly shook her head. "Far Too Heavy might know - he might have talked to the other one."

Linda nodded thoughtfully and the three Spartans stepped into the Pelican hangar bay. The science team was waiting for them, along with a freshly fueled Pelican and eager pilot. The group piled into the small ship, the scientists strapping into the seats on the side of the cargo bay and the three large Spartans strapping their armor into place in the middle. The pilot ran quickly through a preflight check, received permission to leave the _Odysseus II_, and hauled out of the bay faster than Kelly thought was technically allowed.

A buzzing in Kelly's ear told her that someone was about to contact her via radio; she glanced at Fred, thinking it was him, but John's voice filtered through her interior speakers instead. "Kelly, Far Too Heavy seems a little nervous about this Forerunner Tech," he told her. "He's not being clear, but be careful."

"I always am," Kelly replied.

"No, you're not," John retorted.

"What _is_ Far Too Heavy saying?"

"That the Forerunner tech is something he's never seen before. A hybrid of Forerunner and Covenant technology – but not just wires… Something _organic_, I think. Quick Flying keeps pointing to his wrist – is that your hair? – and making weird sounds I've never heard before."

Kelly snorted softly. "Huragok are paranoid. We can handle it."

John's attention turned away and he didn't reply for several minutes. "Far Too Heavy insists on coming. I'm sending him in another Pelican. Wait in the Jackal's bay until he arrives." This time, Kelly knew, John was speaking to all three Spartans. "There's something new here and the last thing we want is to lose valuable Forerunner tech."

"Not to mention us, Captain," Kelly teased.

"Especially you," John admitted, this time on a private frequency, his voice soft to keep from carrying on the bridge.

"You're so sweet."

"To balance your sour."

Kelly snorted in laughter and Fred glanced at her. "Captain, what's the situation with the boarding parties?" he asked John.

"Three teams are still on-station and holding the bridge, engineering, and cargo bays. There's a fourth group wandering the halls for stragglers. If you see anything alien, kill it – we've retrieved our target. We've nearly grabbed everything useful from the ship, so try to keep your visit short."

"Roger that, sir."

The Pelican landed with a gentle thump and the four scientists followed Fred and Linda out of its hold. Kelly brought up the rear. Though the Jackal bay was declared secure, the three Spartans kept alert as they waited for the Pelican bearing Far Too Heavy.

Three wounded men returned to the bay while the Huragok was en route. Two were patched up by a medic and stayed on guard duty, freeing two fresh men to join the team wandering the halls. The third was unconscious though otherwise unhurt; Kelly overheard his comrades talking before they left and felt sorry for the man. He had slipped in a pool of Jackal blood and knocked himself out in the tight confines of a lavatory. She also suspected his fellows had taken pictures.

While Kelly and Fred stood guard, Linda helped to load several stacks of supplies – including fresh water, grains, and several packages of human MREs likely stolen from a ship – onto the Pelican that had brought the science team over. She easily carried the crates that had stumped the Marines in charge of the supplies, so they welcomed her help and got the heaviest stuff onto the Pelican. It took off to make room for the incoming ship and returned to the _Odysseus II_ ass-heavy with much-needed supplies.

"Do Jackals eat our MREs?" Linda asked one of the scientists, prying open another box of them.

"They can digest our food, so it's possible. Or they buy it to sell to fringe families," Dr. Manhattan replied. She looked into the packages of MREs, turning some over to read the labels.

"Fringe families" was the slang term for people who had fled during the Human-Covenant War to non-UNSC-regulated portions of space, believing they would be safer on their own. The Innies had thought much the same, though Linda doubted many had survived the war without changing their minds. Some people called the fringe families deserters and believed most of them had been UNSC soldiers. A lot of equipment, like small ships, had gone missing during the chaos of the war. While no one knew exactly how many humans lived outside of the UNSC-controlled colonies on Earth and Io, fringe families were estimated to be two to three billion strong, a decent portion of the population.

"Oooh, this one has ice cream," the scientist murmured. She tucked the package into her coat and winked at Linda. "Been a long time since ice cream was on the menu."

Linda chuckled in agreement. She put the lid back on the crate and hauled it over to the pile of foodstuffs. The Pelican with Far Too Heavy landed just as she was setting it on the metal deck.

Far Too Heavy floated over to the scientists and greeted them with a short tentacle-waving ceremony. "Are we ready to go?" Dr. Ambrose asked the Huragok. Far Too Heavy nodded solemnly.

"You know the drill," Fred told the scientists and Huragok. "Linda and I will take the lead. If we tell you to stop, do it – and find some cover if you can. Kelly will bring up the rear. If you see something, say something. Don't go wandering off, and don't touch anything unless you know it's not going to explode."

Linda grinned to herself as she jogged over to the door they would be leaving through. Tuckkit had sent them a map and marker for the object's location in the bowels of the ship's cargo bay. It would be a short walk, though the maze-like tunnels of a Jackal ship meant someone separated from the group could get very lost very quickly.

Fred activated the door and Linda unlimbered her rifle. She and Fred kept a good pace, checking the corners and keeping an eye on the scientists to make sure they were keeping up. Kelly brought up the rear, staying alert for an ambush from any direction.

When they came to the cargo bay, Tuckkit met them at the door to guide them through the stacks of crates not yet carried out. Some would be left in the bay because they were useless to the humans, such as barrels of methane clearly stolen from an old Covenant ship equipped for Grunts.

Tuckkit led the group into a small alcove in the cargo bay and what they had come for was instantly recognizable. The four Spartans stood back to let the scientists and Huragok get a better look at the object.

It was roughly a meter on a side and three meters tall, a rectangular box with the hard angles of Forerunner technology. However, its color reminded Fred of the Flood, and there were purple marks carved into it that looked like the Covenant's hieroglyphics.

"It's definitely not organic – at least, not on the outside," Dr. Ambrose stated after a few minutes conferring with his colleagues. They had not yet touched the object, however. "This symbol here means "life," though." He pointed to one of the purple pictographs that Fred imagined could be some sort of mutant flower. "And this looks like it might mean "mighty" or "strong" – it resembles those glyphs, but isn't a perfect match." The picture was of a pair of bars, one shorter than the other, resembling an upside-down "T" shape.

"It looks old," Dr. Manhattan opined, pointing to a worn-down corner. "Perhaps it's an older form of the language?"

"Look at this." Dr. Quill was on his hands and knees. "It's melted into the floor." Each of the scientists quickly looked around the base of the object.

"It looks like it's fused with the ship," Dr. Ambrose grumbled. He pulled himself back onto his feet with a huff and a short groan for his aching knees. "We'll have to cut it out if we want to take it with us."

Far Too Heavy, who had been listening and floating silently nearby, quickly interrupted with a shrill keen. Everyone looked over immediately to find the Huragok shaking his head emphatically.

"No taking it back?" Dr. Quill hazarded. Far Too Heavy nodded seriously. "We won't be able to study it well here." Far Too Heavy shook his head again but did not look particularly apologetic. "Is it dangerous?" The Huragok tilted his head and then nodded slowly, pointing at the Spartans' weapons.

"It's a weapon?" Dr. Manhattan asked, raising an eyebrow. Far Too Heavy nodded slowly again, then wiggled his tentacles like fingers, saying "kind of." "What kind of weapon?"

Far Too Heavy sighed and then floated over to Kelly. He pointed at her. "I love charades," Kelly muttered. "A soldier?" The Huragok shook his head after a moment's thought. "Uhm… A robot?" Again, the creature shook his head and pointed at her visor.

Linda tilted her head. "Is it alive or dead?" Far Too Heavy wiggled his tentacles in a "maybe" gesture; Linda frowned thoughtfully.

"Is it dangerous to us right now?" Fred interrupted. Far Too Heavy shook his head. "But we can't take it with us." The Huragok nodded again. He crossed his tentacles in a "don't argue with me on this" manner.

"I don't mean to rush things, but we should hurry it up," Tuckkit told the group. "All of the useful supplies have been sorted out and are being taken back to the _Odysseus._"

"Take pictures and we'll escort you back," Fred ordered.

"Can we take samples from it?" Dr. Ambrose asked the Huragok. In answer, Far Too Heavy stretched out his tentacles. He clearly did not want – or maybe trust – the human to do it. With a nod, the scientist gave the Huragok several vials.

With the precision of his smaller cilia, Far Too Heavy scraped off bits of the contained where Dr. Ambrose asked him to and poured the filings into the vials. He sealed them and gave them to the scientist, who carefully labeled each one with a name and a picture of the site it had come from. They sampled several of the purple hieroglyphics, the worn edges and unworn surfaces of the container, and the fused parts at the base.

Their data collected, the scientists allowed themselves to be led back to the bay, where a half-full Pelican took them and Linda back to the _Odysseus_ _II_. While they waited for the next Pelican, Fred and Kelly helped the soldiers organize the crates of supplies and move around the heavier ones filled with oxygen canisters.

Kelly overhead a young man talking into a soldier's radio. "The engine is ready to blow when you give the word, Captain," an engineer was telling John. "The reactor really is leaking, but not too badly – we could have patched it up. We tore a little bigger hole in it instead, so we should probably not stick around too much longer."

"All remaining crew on the Jackal ship, prepare for evacuation," John ordered over the all-hands frequency a few moments later. Four Pelicans touched down in the bay simultaneously; Kelly and Fred helped load them with the remaining supplies and, though it was cramped, squeezed into the last one with the last of the soldiers.

They returned to _Odysseus_ quickly and with a minimum of conversation. Once the Pelican's ramp lowered on their own ship, they joined the stream of soldiers leaving the bay and clearing it for the crew taking over the supplies. Linda was waiting for them off to the side and said she had made the group's initial report to the captain already. He had cleared them to work with unloading if Crewman Schwartz wanted their help or to return to their garage if he did not.

Schwartz was happy to let them lend a hand in carrying the heavier crates out of the landing bay and down into their ship's own cargo bay, where he showed them where to stack them. The large loaders that usually did that sort of work were bulky and slower than the Spartans, so with Fred, Linda, and Kelly helping, all of the supplies were documented, organized, and then stored within an hour.

"I could learn to enjoy this," Linda confessed as the trio headed for their garage.

"Being a dock worker?" Fred asked, snorting. He shook his head. "I'll admit it was nice to be useful, but I couldn't do that day in and day out."

Linda nodded in agreement. Kelly shoved her gently and then ran down the hallway, silently initiating a game of tag. Linda smacked the back of Fred's helmet and then sprinted after her, leaving Fred to chase them both.

The hallways were mostly clear, though Kelly did nearly run over a young soldier and likely scared him pretty badly when she had to jump over him in surprise, but the game ended quickly with Fred tackling Kelly into a wall and almost squishing John in the process. The captain had heard the ruckus from his quarters – and no wonder, since the three's game had moved towards the bridge – and stepped into the hallway.

"Hi, John," Kelly chuckled as Fred pushed her helmet into the wall and pulled her arm painfully behind her back. "We're playing tag. Want to join in or are you being a stick in the mud?"

John shook his head. "I was actually about to summon you, Fred."

"Yes, sir?" Fred released Kelly and turned to John, who was clearly in his "captain" capacity more than their lifelong friend.

"Somehow, you're the only one on this ship rated for prisoner interrogation who isn't in the sick bay right now," John told him.

"Huh." Fred tilted his head slightly. "Jacobs-"

"Broke his arm in a wrestling match while on break this afternoon," John replied, shaking his head. Fred snorted. "And Whiskers is still out of commission with that busted skull. We weren't expecting prisoners, so we don't have an interrogation team. You're our last healthy person who can do this."

"I'm guessing the Jackal officer isn't cooperating," Kelly added, leaning at the wall.

"Not really. He's mostly cursed anyone who comes within sight. For a Jackal, he's pretty brave," John admitted.

"I'll change and report back here in five," Fred promised. He saluted and turned away quickly, heading for the garage. Linda followed him.

Kelly found that she enjoyed being in her armor when John was out of his as it put their eyes on a level. She ruffled his hair after checking to make sure they were alone. "I could get used to this," she chuckled.

John shoved her arm off of his head with an annoyed huff. "I have a job for you, too, once you get out of your armor."

"Oh?" Kelly removed her helmet and tucked it under one arm. "What's that, Cap?" She grinned at the short flash of annoyance that still crossed John's face when she called him that.

"I've assigned you to Tuckkit's squad as his official second. He's been needing a new one since Lambert got her own squad and he wants you."

Kelly blinked. She had always been John's second-in-command; that had defined her Spartan career and their relationship for years. While she knew she could not be his XO, not only because Kent was already in that position but also because she had neither the training nor desire for that position, she had not been expected to be assigned to another leader.

"It's just until we get a real captain out here," John said lowly, seeing the spark of hurt in her eyes and reading it instantly. "And I get my own team."

"You are a real captain," Kelly protested automatically, keeping her voice similarly quiet.

"I'm glad I'm fooling everyone else," the captain muttered. Kelly flicked him and he batted her away. "I've sent your assignment to Tuckkit already, so he's expecting you. He wants to bring you up to speed – and he said something about repainting your armor."

Kelly pouted. "I think it looks nice, thank you very much."

"Yes, but the Rabbits have a uniform."

Kelly frowned and drummed her fingers against her armored thigh. "It's _my_ white rabbit design."

"Technically, it's Will's – he drew it for you."

"He was sweet about it, wasn't he?" Both could remember when Will had drawn the rabbit in white paint during their short art class and presented it to Kelly as a gift. While the jokester was mostly known for a comedy, he did have his sweet moments. He had then ruined the rest of the class by painting a mask and slapping it over Josiah's face. What ensued had been a mix of paint "mud" wrestling and paint "food" fighting that had finally calmed down after soldiers had managed to separate the filthy children. All had to be hosed down before being allowed inside again.

Kelly's helmet beeped. "I bet that's him now," she chuckled. She glanced around and then leaned forward, pressing her lips to John's. He grinned, eyes twinkling, and returned the kiss. Though both wanted to linger, they had their duties – and the hallway was a good place to be ambushed – and so separated quickly. Kelly smirked and pulled her helmet on while John shook his head slightly at her playful antics.

After reading the message and confirming it was Tuckkit looking for her, Kelly saluted and turned to get her armor removed and then report to her new CO. She had worked with Spartan IVs before, but never in this capacity, and she looked forward to being an official part of the Rabbit team.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Slave Labor**

"I hope you know what you're doing," Kelly muttered, ducking as another blast from a plasma pistol nearly took off her head.

"Me, too," her partner, Quill, grunted. He bit off the end of the roll of tape and secured it. "At least you get the easy part."

"Easy my ass," the Spartan II replied.

Tuckkit pressed a hand to his bleeding side, his other hand gripping his pistol. His rifle lay outside of the spot of cover he had found, but constant bombardment from plasma pistols would soon destroy the weapon. Kelly and Quill had responded to the Spartan IV's call for backup after the ambush had killed his small team. Three bodies lay in the hallway, none moving and riddled with plasma burns. Their vital signs had flat-lined.

"I'm sending medical and backup," John told the pinned team over the radio. "Get under cover and hold your position." Kelly could hear the faintest line of stress in his voice, though it would take a lifetime of camaraderie to know it. To the rest of the soldiers around the ship, it sounded like the Captain was calm and confidant.

"You heard the captain," Quill chuckled. He bounced the five taped-together grenades in one hand. The pins had been tied together. The plan was simple but relied on the grenades. With five of them, Kelly hoped they would blow through the wall between them and space, sucking out the ambush team and allowing her a moment of confusion to snatch Tuckkit out of harm's way and retreat with him.

Quill waited for a short lull in the shooting; the Jackals fired at about the same rate and did not stagger their reloads. He stood, turning side-on to the enemy to minimize the target area of his body, and hurled the package down the hallway. It struck a Jackal's shield and bounced towards the outer wall. Quill dropped back down, the pins on the deck next to him, and covered his head. Kelly dropped her rifle next to him and put a hand on the edge of plating they were using for cover.

The five grenades exploded and the outer wall, weakened by abuse and neglect, tore open with a grinding shriek. Four Jackals were immediately sucked out into the vacuum as Kelly sprinted out of cover. A couple of Jackals remained by the time she slid to a stop next to Tuckkit, shielding her CO with her armor, but they were hanging onto anything within reach for dear life.

As gently and quickly as possible, Kelly picked Tuckkit up and sprinted back towards her partner. Quill was already at the next hallway junction, holding the doors open with their rifles slung over his shoulders. Kelly ducked under his arm and Quill let the purple doors slam shut. The hallway they had been ambushed in would be devoid of atmosphere and life within moments.

Tuckkit groaned softly and grit his teeth as Kelly set him down. She none-too-gently shoved an empty magazine from her pouch into his mouth and pried his hands away from his wound. The blast had destroyed the biofoam injection ports which explained why his armor had not yet plugged the hole. Tuckkit had lost a lot of blood, some of it smeared on her armor, but Kelly thought he would make it. She pulled the can of biofoam from its destroyed housing and manually injected it into the wound. Tuckkit gasped and grabbed her forearm, biting down on the magazine to muffle a shout of pain.

"We'll evac you to the bay, sir," Kelly told Tuckkit. He nodded and let Kelly help him to his feet. Quill took point while Kelly one-handed Tuckkit's pistol and kept her other arm around her CO, balancing him and keeping him moving forward.

_~~Back on the _Odysseus II

_How did this go so wrong?_ John asked himself, staring at the reports coming in. Eighteen casualties reported so far – and three MIA, suspected KIA – plus twice that in wounded. Resistance was much heavier than any other captured Jackal ship, and to make things worse, this ship had been able to punch through the scrambling codes and send a mayday to Eayn. Within three hours, a dozen warships would be bearing down on the humans.

Fred had wrung the location of this ship, a high-profile target on the UNSC list of known pirate vessels, from the Jackal currently recovering in his jail cell. While John had been cautious, even expecting an ambush, the sheer number of Jackals on this ship had caught everyone by surprise, especially after the last few boardings had gone so smoothly.

Maximus had plotted the course to an outlying asteroid in the system and found the ship, _Killing Blows_, in an orbit around a small Kig-Yar mining colony. The colony had raised no alarm when Maximus had sent in a small probe, leading the AI and bridge officers to conclude that the colony was abandoned or severely understaffed.

"Recall all boarding parties," John ordered Kent harshly. "We'll take them out from here."

"We're being hailed, Captain," Kent replied tersely.

"By who?" John asked incredulously.

"Eayn, sir."

John paused and considered this news. The bridge officers were tense as they waited for their captain's next orders.

"Patch it to my office," John finally ordered. "Kent, take over here – get our people out of that ship."

"Aye, Captain." Kent turned towards the bridge officers while John quickly trotted out of the bridge and towards his quarters. On the way, he smoothed his formal uniform and hair down, knowing he should look at least presentable.

"I will translate," Maximus said as soon as John opened the door to his office. "You look fine, Captain. Remain calm and firm. Jackals respect a solid leader."

John nodded his understanding – and his thanks for the advice – as he sat down behind his desk. He could hear the faint click from the outer door as it locked. The room lights dimmed and a communications screen popped up above his desk. John accepted the call and straightened as the connection was made.

Three Jackals were standing on the other side of the call, dressed extravagantly in purple and blue hues, the colors of Jackal royalty. John could see the well-groomed teeth and thin layer of blubber that marked the three aliens as high-ranking officials, rich enough to feed themselves well. Two of them had plates instead of spines, marking them as female.

The largest, and presumably the leader, stepped forward, putting herself ahead of her comrades. "I am Chur'R-Wit, Shipmistress of _Glory Unfolding_," the alien said. Maximus translated. "My partners are Chur'T-Hil, Shipmaster of _Newcoming Sunrise_." The smallest inclined his head slightly, his spikes glittering slightly. It looked like they had been painted with gold dust. "And Chur'R-Sal, Shipmistress of _Unspoken Maladies_." The one to Chur'R-Wit's right exposed her teeth which had silver cases around them. "We have been nominated by our peers to speak with the Shipmaster of the _Odysseus II._"

"I am Captain Sierra-117, Shipmaster of the UNSC _Odysseus II_," John said formally. This seemed to make the Jackals nervous; Chur'T-Hil twitched and looked worriedly off-screen at someone.

"You are the one they call the Demon?" Chur'T-Hil asked cautiously.

"I have been called that," John agreed. His reputation during the Human-Covenant War still had an impact on the cowardly aliens, it seemed.

"We wonder why you have attacked our ship and request that you cease your attack at once. Your attack comes unprovoked and we can prevent loss of life on both sides if you would agree to discuss your reasons for this attack," Chur'R-Wit said, her plates rattling slightly as she tried to appear larger.

"According to our treaty, you gave up all rights to this ship once it became known as a pirate vessel. Since you have failed to uphold the terms of our agreement and stem the piratical ships leaving and returning to Eayn, the UNSC has sent us to assist you in your task." John raised an eyebrow slightly. "We have allowed your official ships to pass unmolested and only destroyed those which have been confirmed as pirate ships."

"You are killing hundreds of our kind," Chur'T-Hil whined, squawking.

John shook his head. "Hundreds of pirates – surely the government of Eayn, who signed the treaty and agreed to all terms therein, appreciates our efforts in safeguarding the Kig-Yar as well as ourselves."

Chur'T-Hil bared his teeth but said nothing. Despite the "official" government of the Jackal homeworld signing the treaty, everyone knew that the real power on Eayn were the pirates. John knew he was entirely on the green side of legal to destroy pirate ships but also knew that "legal" meant little to these particular aliens.

"We do appreciate your efforts," Chur'R-Wit said, silencing her companions with a snarl. "However, we do not wish to tax the UNSC – with so much to rebuild, after all, surely your single ship and soldiers are dearly needed elsewhere." The false sincerity in her voice was conveyed through Maximus' translation. "We have been addressing this issue within our own ranks and have been doing well in stemming the problem pirates."

Maximus snorted, muting the conversation for a moment. "Sir, our connection has allowed me to access some of their databases. Chur'R-Wit owns the ship that we're attacking. It's carrying a special cargo, but I can't tell what yet."

"Tell Kent and order the second wave to look for that cargo."

"Aye, sir. Convo's back up." Maximus disappeared again and John cleared his throat calmly.

"Nevertheless, it seems that you need our help. Numerous human and Sangheili ships have reported pirate activity increasing in recent months. We are here to make an example of the pirates. Once we are-"

Maximus suddenly appeared again and muted the conversation. "Sir, you're needed on the bridge."

John nodded and got up. Maximus terminated the connection to the Eayn representatives and unlocked the door even as the captain strode quickly towards it. He jogged onto the bridge to find Kent, pale and stressed, barking orders into a microphone.

"Captain!" Kent breathed a short sigh of relief. "They've got human hostages – they're using them as shields."

John looked up at the main screen to see several soldiers' cameras showing Jackals using humans – mostly men, he noted – as meat shields, advancing through the corridors. John's knuckles cracked as he made a fist of unconscious anger though his expression remained blank.

"Open a line to their bridge and get our soldiers into the Pelicans. Have them station just outside the bays."

"Aye, sir," Kent replied, turning to give the necessary orders.

The soldiers quickly retreated. One Pelican returned with wounded, including Master Chief Tuckkit in critical condition, and the rest hovered just inside the effective reach of the ship's plasma weapons. They were safe there, but if they needed to return to the _Odysseus II_ they would be sitting ducks.

The main screen went blank for a second and then a Jackal, sitting down with a bandage over one eye, appeared on-screen. He squawked for a moment before Maximus began translating the words for the entire bridge to hear.

"I am Kal, acting shipmaster of _Killing Blows_. Recall your ships and your soldiers and prepare to be boarded."

"Negative," John replied immediately, shaking his head. "Your tag reads the same as a ship that attacked and destroyed a Sangheili mining platform three months ago. Per the treaty with the Kig-Yar, we have targeted you to recapture stolen cargo and to ensure your pirating does not go unpunished. We order you to release all human prisoners and surrender to us. If you do so peacefully and quickly, you will be allowed to return to Eayn on condition that you never take up your pirating ways again."

Kal chuffed and shook his head, making his spines sway. He was fairly young by the alien's standards; his spines were still slightly floppy and one had a noticeable bend in it. "You will not attack us while we have the slaves."

Kent signaled for Maximus to mute the conversation and asked, "Did he say slaves?" incredulously.

"The word most closely translates as "captives to be used in labor" – probably hard labor. A few of them had UNSC tags, sir," Maximus added, turning to John.

Kent frowned. "Possibly POWs never recovered or deserters captured on the fringes."

"Slave trading comes with a death sentence, according to the laws of Eayn. Slave trading of Jackals, at least. There isn't anything about humans…" Maximus unfocused his eyes as he accessed more data. "But the treaty indicates that slave trading of any species by any species, even their own, can be answered with a threat of war. I wouldn't recommend that, seeing as we're one ship out here."

"War ships inbound, Captain," Shepherd interrupted. On screen, the Jackal was waving his hands wildly, probably angry at being ignored and muted. "ETA forty minutes."

John nodded to show he had heard and turned back to Maximus. "Patch back through the Chur'R-Wit and tell her that if she does not recall her ships in ten minutes, we will open fire on the _Killing Blows_."

The entire bridge paused. "Sir… There are humans aboard the ship," Kent said hesitantly.

John nodded, already inputting orders into the computer and sending them to Sara. He called up Fred, Kelly, and Linda on his personal radio. "We've got a mission, Spartans," he told them, motioning for Kent to make the ultimatum. "Is anyone breached?"

"No, sir," all three replied. Linda and Fred were in one Pelican together; Kelly was in another. All three had been part of the invasion force.

"Good. We have seven minutes to infiltrate, find the captives, and get them out. I'm on my way. Find us a way in." John looked up to find Kent watching him with a mix of incredulity and frustration. "Lecture me later, Kent. You're in charge. When that clock hits zero, if those ships haven't retreated, fire on that ship – no matter what."

Dr. West appeared with several technicians in tow, each carrying a piece of John's armor. They immediately began encasing him in it, even with his formal uniform on. John unclipped his Spartan eagle wing and captain's badge from his uniform and handed them to Sara for safekeeping.

"Sir, I'd cite regulations but I have a feeling you won't listen," Maximus said dryly.

"You're starting to learn," John replied with a slight grin. He held his arms out as two technicians slipped the shoulder pieces over them and began bolting them into place.

"Chur'R-Wit is arguing with your ultimatum," Maximus reported after a few silent seconds.

"Argue back." John slid his helmet on and locked it into place even as he turned away from the bridge. Sara and her technicians cleared out of the way and John sprinted down to the bays where a Longsword was already waiting. The pilot warmed it up and the outer doors opened even as John stepped into the bay. He grabbed onto the Longsword's wheels and activated his magnetic soles. He thumped on the hull and the small attack ship shot out of the bay.

Clinging to the hull, John could feel the acceleration tugging at him but ignored it. He activated his visor's FOF tag finder and looked for his team. He found them clustered on the ship's hull and sent the coordinates to the pilot. The Longsword turned accordingly.

The pilot slowed the craft but since it couldn't hover, John would have to time his jump exactly. He alerted Kelly to his plan and she winked her green acknowledgement light. John climbed to the nose of the bird as the ship grew larger and larger against the blackness of space. The pilot began his turn and John forced himself to let go of the ship. His momentum kept him streaking towards the _Killing Blows_, but he couldn't yet make out his Spartans. The Longsword pilot, his job done, rushed back to the _Odysseus II_ before the Jackal ship could target him.

John turned himself around carefully so that his boots pointed at the hull and tapped on his thrusters. He slowed slightly, but not enough – he tapped them again and then a third time.

"I see you," Kelly said into his earpiece. "You're coming in too fast."

John grunted. He couldn't yet see Kelly and fired his thrusters. The fuel was nearly spent; it winked warningly at him just as he caught sight of a green flash of armor on the side of the purple ship. His fuel tank emptied and the thrusters shut down but they had managed to slow him enough to survive the impact.

His boots hit the side of the ship and John pulsed the magnetic soles briefly. If he held it on too long, he would rip his feet from his body. Kelly and Fred, their own magnetic soles on, grabbed onto him briefly, killing most of his speed. He still bounced away and Linda, standing a few meters away, just managed to snag his boot and slam him into the ship.

John could feel bruises forming and his lip was bleeding but he was safely down on the Jackal ship's hull. Linda helped him to his feet and he checked his armor's diagnostics to make sure all of his seals were still intact. They were abused but safe for now.

Fred pried open a maintenance hatch and the four Spartans quickly descended through it. John checked his mission clock; five minutes and thirty seconds remained.

"We need to move quickly," John ordered. "Kelly, you're with me; we'll round up the human shields. Fred, Linda, head towards the brig. If you find prisoners, get them to the bays and call in a Pelican."

"The bays are heavily guarded," Kelly warned even as the group split into two and began sprinting down the hallway.

"We'll have to deal with that later," John replied. A Jackal rounded the corner; John took it by surprise and quickly snapped its neck before moving on.

At a dead sprint, Kelly and John made it to the last known location of the human shields in thirty-three seconds. There was no sign of the humans; Kelly cursed quietly and John led them on a sprint down another hallway.

Fred and Linda took nearly a full minute to reach the brig and cargo bays, where they found close to fifty skinny, hollow-eyed humans chained to a wall. Linda quickly broke the chains and asked everyone if there were any missing; the prisoners replied that thirty of their number had been taken by the Jackals several minutes ago. The pair relayed this information to John.

Linda, watching for Jackals creeping up from the maze in the cargo bay, spotted a familiar object. She nudged Fred and nodded to it.

"It's that Strong Life symbol again," she muttered over the radio. This time, the piece of Forerunner tech was nearly twice her height and two meters on a side. It had not yet fused to the ship's floor and the purple Old Covenant markings on it were missing.

"We don't have time," Fred growled, helping a man to his feet after snapping the restraints binding his ankles together.

Linda nodded but made sure to take several pictures of the object. She sent them directly to Dr. Manhattan. Despite the thing's apparent lifelessness, she shivered every time she looked at it.

Fred took point on the run for the bays. It took nearly two minutes for the augmented humans to make it as many were exhausted and weak from starvation.

Fred and Linda stormed the bay in a two-Spartan whirlwind. They killed the guards and called in the nearest Pelican with room for the prisoners; it landed and the soldiers inside took control of the newly-freed captives. The Pelican struggled to lift off but the pilot coaxed her into the air. Once the Pelican had safely retreated from the bay, Fred reported to John that they had successfully evacuated forty-five prisoners.

"We've found the rest," John replied grimly. "They were executed. Call in a bird for us."

"Aye, sir," Fred replied. He signaled another hovering Pelican and it began its approach.

John sent a call to Kent, who picked up immediately. "Sir, Kal is throwing a fit and those ships are still on approach," he said.

"Prepare to fire. Recall the Pelicans and send out the Longswords to cover us. We've recovered forty-five and thirty were executed."

"Aye, sir."

John and Kelly stepped into the Jackal bay just as the Pelican touched down. They climbed aboard, crowding the cargo bay and the Marines inside. The pilot ignored proper takeoff procedures and simply burned his engines, setting the bay aflame as the Pelican shot out into space.

"Archer missiles and MAC round inbound," Kent reported to John just as the mission clock hit 00:00.

"Brace yourselves," John ordered the soldiers in the cargo bay. He and his Spartans attached harnesses to their armor to hold them in place in case the Pelican was clipped by debris. He did not want to squish anyone accidentally.

"We have impact." Kent's voice was strained. "Total destruction imminent."

"Warships are inbound," Maximus added. "Longswords on their way, Captain."

"Don't fire on them unless you have to," John told the AI and XO.

"Aye, sir," both replied.

One of the fleeing Pelicans was clipped by a piece of debris and careened wildly for a moment before righting itself. A dozen Longswords surrounded the slower-moving craft and kept alert for incoming threats. They broke up debris with small missiles when it hurtled towards them so that only little pings warned the soldiers they were being hit.

The _Odysseus II_ intercepted the group and swallowed up the Pelicans and Longswords in a confused jumble. No one was in their correct bay but everyone, at least, was within the safety of the large ship's shields.

"We're all on board," John reported to Kent.

"Preparing Slipspace jump," Maximus said over the same frequency. "I'll put us out of range of their sensors."

"And ours at the same time," Kent argued.

"Do it, Maximus," John ordered. He stepped out of the Pelican and looked around. The fifteen civilians – his HUD showed three FOF tags but the rest were untagged – were in a corner of the bay, kept out of the way by a small team until the medics could make room in the clinic to see them.

Fred, Linda, and Kelly immediately started helping shift gear and wounded personnel as needed. John left them to it and jogged up to the bridge, still in his armor. He had to duck through the hatch to get onto the bridge itself.

"Captain on deck!" Kent barked when John stepped into view. Everyone stood and saluted. John waved them back to their positions at their consoles and pulled off his helmet. He tucked it under one elbow and observed the main view screen.

"We've got eight warships still bearing down on us," Kent reported quietly. "They're old – this one here is frigate-class, but the rest are carriers and cruisers refitted for battle. These two are definitely old UNSC ships; these other two might be pre-war relics of the Old Covenant."

John nodded, reading the screen's output data. Two of the ships had tags that identified them as previously having been involved in pirate activity; a third was on the wanted list because it had been stolen after the war.

"Cripple that one," John ordered Maximus, tapping the stolen frigate. "And then initiate Slipspace jump."

The ship thumped as a MAC round sailed away and then bumped again as Maximus took them into Slipspace. The utter calm and quiet let the officers on the bridge relax slightly, though they remained vigilant.

"Put casualty reports on my HUD," John ordered Maximus as he turned to address the bridge officers. They turned towards him, though one eye in every head stayed on screens and readouts. "Good job today. Find your relief and get some R&R while you can." He nodded to Kent to oversee the change and then pulled his helmet on and strode from the bridge.

He felt content, being in his armor and having run some nervous energy from weeks of being suspended on the bridge of the _Odysseus II_ instead of in the fight. However, as he read over the casualty report that Maximus had put on his HUD, John couldn't help but frown and berate himself.

Intellectually, he knew that he had done exactly as he should have, sending in a decently sized invasion force that balanced size and speed well for their job. There had been no warning of the resistance they had met, nor any indication that the Jackals had captured humans for slave trade. John made a mental note to interview each of the prisoners and find out where they had come from.

Still, the losses – nineteen KIA since one soldier had died of his wounds – rankled him. The three missing soldiers he relabeled as KIA, since there was no way they could have survived the destruction of the _Killing Blows_. That made twenty-two dead and two critically wounded, including Master Chief Tuckkit.

"Where are you off to, Captain?" Kelly asked, slipping into John's line of sight. She had already removed her armor and thus stood shorter compared to him than usual.

"Garage then my quarters to review my report," John replied. Kelly fell into step next to him; her hand just briefly brushed against his glove. John smiled behind his helmet.

"I was on my way to visit Tuckkit," Kelly said, glancing up at him. "Want to come with, after we get your armor off?" John could tell she was subtly hinting that he _should_ come, and he realized he had never considered visiting the wounded. It wasn't something a Spartan expected to do, after all, but as Captain, it would be expected of him.

John nodded and the pair walked the rest of the way to the garage in silence. There, Dr. West met them with a pair of technicians. With Kelly and John's help, the group had the Captain out of his MJOLNIR faster than John liked. He felt naked and exposed without his armor, and his formal uniform was wrinkled past a simple straightening. Kelly tugged on it a few times, smoothing out the worst of the creases, and then pinned his Spartan eagle and Captain insignia back into place for him. She licked her thumb and rubbed a spot of blood off of his chin.

"Thanks," John chuckled quietly, combing his hair with his fingers. Kelly grinned and winked. John also thanked the technicians and Sara and then headed towards the infirmary with Kelly. He quietly told her the casualty counts as well as his plan to interview the prisoners; Kelly suggested doing so in one of the conference rooms instead of his own office, and doing both individual and a group interview in order to corroborate stories. John took her suggestions to heart and thanked her for her insight.

Inside the infirmary, the chaos of battle had calmed slightly. While some soldiers still sat in the lobby, bleeding into gauze snatched hastily from a cart by a harried nurse, most had been stitched up and sent to their bunks or to an observation room.

"Where can we find Master Chief Tuckkit?" Kelly asked, gently grabbing the nurse's arm and attention. She looked between the two Spartans for a moment and then pointed down the hall.

"Blue Room 6," she told them. She moved away quickly to help a young soldier trying not to puke on his shoes. Instead, he puked into a blue bag, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Kelly led the way further into the infirmary and knocked at the door to the room with a blue border and a big "6" at the top of the hatch. The door hissed open and she stepped in.

Tuckkit was lying on a hospital bed, legs and pelvis covered with a blanket and torso wrapped in thick gauze. "Hey, Kelly," Tuckkit said, voice rough from painkillers. He was sipping at a straw that poked through a spill-proof cap into a tall pouch of water.

John stepped through the door; Tuckkit winced as he tried to sit up straighter. "Relax, Tuck," Kelly scolded, pressing down gently on the man's shoulder. "You're not supposed to be moving around."

Tuckkit snorted and nodded gravely in greeting to John. "It's an honor, sir," he said.

"The honor is mine," John replied. He folded his hands behind his back, unsure of how to proceed.

Kelly rescued him again, though, rolling her eyes at him. "We're glad you're going to make it," she told her CO.

"I owe it to you," Tuckkit replied. Kelly shook her head slightly. "Seriously, Kel-kel." John hid his surprise at the nickname for his friend. "I would have died on that ship if it hadn't been for you and Quill."

"I'll remember that next time you try to partner me with Mear," Kelly replied with a grin.

Tuckkit groaned. "She's not _that_ bad, Kel. Just… Different from you."

"She _is_ that bad."

"All the guys like her."

"That's because she lets them in her pants on a nightly basis!" Kelly huffed.

"And some of the girls."

"That's because she hooks _them_ up with the guys!" Kelly waved her hand at the wall for emphasis.

They were interrupted by a buzzing from the PA system overhead. "Captain S-117, please report to Conference Room B."

John frowned. Kent would not put out a ship-wide broadcast on a whim. He nodded in farewell to Kelly, who sat down in a chair to chat with her CO, and Tuckkit before stepping out of the room and walking quickly towards said Conference Room.

He opened the door to chaos and anger.

"We have to go back!" one man was screaming at a flustered Kent. John's XO was frantically trying to field angry people from all sides.

"My wife-" a young man started. He was cut off by a much older man, nearly fifty by John's estimate, who screeched at him. The young man turned red in the face and took a breath to yell a retort.

John let the door hiss shut behind himself and strode into the room, intentionally drawing attention to himself. The room slowly quieted as arguing pairs or groups noticed his presence. He stood next to Kent, who saluted smartly.

"Captain, these are all of the prisoners in fit condition from the _Killing Blows_," he said loudly over the quiet. "They have a concern they wish you to address."

John nodded and Kent stepped back, putting his back to the wall and watching a couple of the most outspoken men carefully.

"Welcome aboard the _Odysseus II_," John told the men – four total – and women – two total, including one that looked ready to give birth any second. He noted the haunted look lurking behind most of their eyes. The pregnant woman was attended by an older woman missing several chunks of skin from her cheeks and the fleshier parts of her arms. "I am Captain S-117." There were several glances between pairs at his designation. Many sets of eyes narrowed while others widened. "I will need to speak to each of you individually, but it seems that you have already taken a group interview into your hands. Please be seated and I will listen to your concerns."

John sat at the head of the long conference table and waited silently, consciously keeping his face blank. After a few seconds of silence, the pregnant woman and her attendant sat down at the other end of the table; with their example set, the rest of the group took seats. The closest was three seats away on John's left and the Spartan could not help but notice the way the man leaned away. Kent sat directly on his right once all of their guests had settled.

"I will first need introductions – name and home world, as well as how long you have been a captive of the Jackals. We will go more in detail later when I interview each of you in private," John told the men and women. He nodded to the man on his left to begin the introductions.

The man cleared his throat. He had been the young man yelling about his wife earlier. "I'm Jack Norrison from Madrigal and then New Llanelli. Been a prisoner since 2546." He had no hair, though tufts of it growing from random sections of his scalp told John it was probably not by choice. His eyes were hazel and bone-weary but fiery with determination. His skin was jet black, whether naturally or from some sort of dust John could not tell since his clothing was filthy as well. Against his dark skin, his remaining few teeth were yellow and chipped.

Jack nudged the older man on his left who, with a glare at Jack that told John there was a power play between the two, sniffed before replying. He blew his nose into his hands and wiped it on his filthy jacket. "Russell Norrison, Madrigal, 2546," he growled. He looked like an older version of Jack with wisps of grey hair over a scalp spotted with zits and scars.

"He's my father," Jack explained. Russell grunted.

The next person down, the woman missing chunks of skin with red hair and what was probably a fair complexion but sallow due to lack of food and light, leaned forward to make eye contact with John. "I'm Julia Kirkwood, from Levosia. I was captured in 2549 on Arcadia." She put her hand on the shoulder of the pregnant woman. "This is Maddy – we don't know her real name. I found her on Arcadia during the attack and we were captured together." Maddy was a very young woman, likely in her late twenties if John had to guess, with limp black hair that she used as a screen to shield her face. "She was twelve at the time; she hasn't spoken since."

John nodded to the pair of women and looked at the last two in the group. The two men glowered and then Jack snapped at them to "just do it." They shifted, resenting Jack's order, and spat out their introductions like bad fruit. The two men looked nearly identical except that one was thinner while the other had one milky-white eye.

"Jake Crow, Arcadia, 2549," the partially-blind man muttered.

"Tim Crow, Arcadia, 2549," the other added grudgingly.

John nodded. "I am the captain of this ship, Sierra-117. This is my XO, Kent. Now, I would like to know what you were yelling about earlier."

Jack leaned forward, blocking his father's view of the Spartan. Russell leaned back in his chair and sucked in his cheeks as though he was smoking a pipe. Julia gripped Maddy's hand reassuringly when the mute woman reached for it. The twins glared at John, who ignored the irate pair.

"We were not the only prisoners, Chief – er, Captain, sorry." John nodded for the man to continue. "That mining colony has our families on it. We were being moved, I think. Or..." He glanced at the two women and then grimaced. "Or something… when you got there."

"The mining colony on the asteroid?" John asked, tapping the table. Maximus immediately displayed all of the data they had been able to collect in their brief time near the colony. "It seemed deserted."

"It is – on the surface. But they had us working underground."

"How many?"

"Two hundred thirteen, at last count. But with those who died on the ship… One-hundred and eighty-six remain."

"Eighty-seven," Julia murmured, rubbing Maddy's distended belly pointedly. "Soon, at least."

"Eighty-seven," Jack repeated, nodding to the older woman respectfully. He turned back to John. "Please, sir – Captain – we have to rescue them. My wife is there, as are our children."

"How many guards are there?" John asked.

"Not many. They…" Jack rubbed his arm. "They controlled us in other ways." He glanced sympathetically at the two women. "Food, you know. If you acted out, no one was fed. And…" He cleared his throat. "The women…"

Julia snorted. "The women are kept pregnant until they pass the breeding age – if they survive that long," she said matter-of-factly. "Then they go into the mines for hard labor and die quickly. I was spared because I know how to deliver babies with a minimum of fuss. They don't like fuss."

"And the twins are engineers, I'm a biologist, and Dad's a mechanic," Jack added. "We were fed better, given lighter work. That's why we've survived the past years. No one with deep mining work lives more than a few months to a year; upper levels survive up to five years if they're lucky."

"They would need a constant supply of labor," Kent murmured, frowning. "Where are they getting it?"

"The children," Julia replied, eyes hard. "They bring in new blood every few months – they call themselves "fringers" – but they also breed their slaves."

"How many children are there?" John asked, frowning.

"Eighteen under six, thirteen between six and ten, eight between ten and fifteen, and five between fifteen and eighteen, six between eighteen and twenty-two-ish," Julia replied confidently. "They start work at six carrying water for the adults. Once the girls start menstruating, they get separated from the boys and work between deliveries – but lighter stuff."

"And how many able-bodied adults?"

"85 able-bodied adults, six women close to term," Jack replied, steepling his fingers. "Anyone who is not working is killed."

"How often do new slaves come in?" John asked.

"Every few months."

"When was the last delivery?"

"One-hundred and eighteen work days ago," Jack replied. "The schedule is on Eayn time. Not sure how that translates…"

"It would be nearly three months, if a work day is sunrise to sunset on Eayn," Maximus added.

"How many came in?"

"Forty-three," Jack replied. "Two died almost immediately; there are thirty-one left now."

John nodded, thinking. Julia and Maddy rose, the younger woman leaning on the older, and walked out, shaking off Jack's kind-voiced offer of assistance. Kent paged a nurse from the clinic to meet the pair in the hallway; judging by the sheen of sweat on Maddy's forehead and the damp spot on her dirty dress, she was either in labor or close to it. John was internally surprised by the calm way both mother and attendant handled the situation; he had expected something more dramatic.

"This will be Maddy's fifth," Jack murmured lowly, likely noting the way John glanced after the pair once the door slid shut. "And Julia's… Who knows?" The man attempted a wan smile.

"You should eat and rest," John told the group after gathering his scattered thoughts. He wondered if a warship was even equipped for birthing a baby, medically speaking. He doubted Schwartz had packed baby food. "We will begin to plan a rescue."

"You need our help," Jack protested.

"I will need your help, but not yet," John replied, standing. "First, you have to take care of yourselves. Rescues are no good if you rush in." John could remember losing his first friend, Sam, due to a moment's carelessness.

"Alright…" Jack stood as well; Russell levered himself to his feet with a grunt. The twins also stood after a moment to prove that they were not blindly following Jack. The group trooped out of the room with a shuffling gait as though they were used to walking around with short hobbles tied to their ankles.

Jack turned at the door. "Thank you," he told John. "When I saw that armor, I couldn't help but hope that we were going to be rescued… And you saved us."

"And we'll save your families as well," John replied.

"I hope so, sir."


	5. Chapter 5

_Sorry for the delay! College started, family drama, and then more college (homework). But I've finally written up this little chapter to tide you over until we start the real fireworks!_

_Please review! I love reading reviews._

**Chapter 5: Pulled in All Directions **

"There are three entrances to the mines," Jack was saying, highlighting portions of the crude map he had drawn on the holographic display of the asteroid. Maximus had helped to translate it into 3D, using passive scans of the asteroid to judge distances and densities. "These two are holed up, but we could get through them if we had to. They patrol it regularly but infrequently."

"Where are the guard posts?" Master Chief Bunnet asked, eyeing the map.

"Here, here, and here." The three locations Jack pointed out highlighted in red. They surrounded the entrance and took defensible ground. "They rotate between them every half hour. Reliefs come every six hours, about." It had taken some time to translate Jack's internal clock, set to a Jackal workday, to Earth hours.

"We'll want to hit just after the relief arrives so we have the biggest possible window," Slug opined. "I say we speak in a small team to take the posts and then raid into the mines."

"If they know you're coming, they'll slaughter our families," Jack objected.

"Or use them as human shields again," Tuckkit growled from his wheelchair. He had insisted on attending despite Dr. Patch's protests.

John nodded. "We'll need to do this quietly. We need intel, too – if there are more slave mines, we need to know about them."

Jack shook his head slightly. "I don't know if there's any more, but they do keep records – their greed is good for something, at least. They're in this main building here." He pointed to the center of the small collection of buildings carved out of the asteroid that served for the mine workers' homes.

"What about cameras? Automated defenses?" Grabby asked.

Jack shook his head. "Maybe once, but there's barely enough power to run the gennies."

"Where are the generators?" Sergeant Teagle asked, perking up.

"Under the main building," Jack replied confidently. "There are three nuclear and two electrical."

"Why so many?" John asked, frowning.

"They're old, Captain – ancient, really. Barely kept running by Dad and the twins. Only one or two is actually running at any one time. And the nuclear ones aren't well shielded anymore."

"Damn things blow up more often'n not," Russell grunted, his first comment since the meeting to plan the rescue had started. Jack glanced at his father and nodded in agreement.

"We'll hit this building first, then. Gather intel and shut off the lights."

"You shut off the lights and you'll shut off the oxygen," Jack pointed out.

"How much air is in the tunnels?"

"Ten, maybe fifteen minutes' worth. Then it'll get toxic."

"Is there any way to get oxygen tanks or masks to them – especially to the children?" Dr. Patch asked.

"Maybe, but we'd need an inside man," Jack replied. "I'll do it. I'll go back. It'd be nice to see my wife. And I can arrange to get the oxygen in there quietly."

"They'll notice you've reappeared," John argued.

"Not if you can get me to one of these other entrances and get me through one of them. I can get back to a work group and join it. They can't tell us apart."

"Don't they count you?" Tuckkit asked. Jack shook his head. "Huh. Lax on their part, then."

"Lucky on ours," John commented. "How would we communicate with you?"

"I can't risk taking in a radio or anything. We'll just have to agree on a day and time so I can warn the others and get the oxygen stashed."

"What if you can't get the oxygen?" Slug asked, squinting at the map and then at the civilian.

"Then you'll just have to do it quickly," Jack replied stoically.

"How long will you need?"

"Three work days to stash enough."

John nodded thoughtfully. "I don't want to send you in alone," he told the dark-skinned man. Jack grinned slightly.

"I've survived worse, Captain."

"It's not just for your sake. Without a man on the inside who can meet us at the guard posts, it'll be hard to find our way through this maze."

Jack nodded thoughtfully. "Fair enough… But anyone you send will stick out like a sore thumb."

"We've got trained covert ops guys," Grabby pointed out.

"Yeah, well-fed, confident, loud, tough, soldier-like guys," Jack replied. He lifted his shirt slightly so the entire group could see the rail-thin stomach and protruding ribs underneath it. "Unless you've got a starved kid somewhere I don't know about, it's going to have to be me alone. I can have one of the older boys meet you, though. They can get anywhere without being seen." He dropped his shirt again.

"Alright, that will have to do," John finally said as everyone tried to think of another way. He trusted Jack's assessment of the situation and had been impressed by the young man so far. "Now, who's going?"

Grabby, Tuckkit, and Slug immediately ran over each other's sentences in suggesting a strike team. John waved them to silence and motioned for Tuckkit to speak first. "I'd recommend the Rabbits, sir," he said predictably. "Spartans and Marines both. We're fast, quiet."

"And we're what, lumbering idiots?" Grabby asked, not offended but still defensive.

"We don't want too big a force tripping over its own feet and the Rabbits work well together. We've got the coordination to do this."

Bunnet grunted. "I'd hate to sit this one out, Captain," he told John. "We're going to need lots of people in there if there are wounded to evacuate them quickly enough."

"We can extract from here," Kite said, pointing to the second blockaded entrance to the mine, five klicks from the main entrance. "There's a tunnel running straight from the town to here, should be easy enough to just get the civvies running along it to freedom. Then we won't have issues with trying to double back over ourselves."

John nodded. "Tuckkit, Bunnet, Teagle, you're in charge of the infiltration and rescue – figure out who's going after what between yourselves. Tuckkit, brief Kelly on what's been decided; she'll lead Hotel this time." Tuckkit nodded sulkily while Dr. Patch huffed in exasperation at the man's stubbornness. "Grabby, I want your team to secure every entrance to the mine. You can start by getting Jack back into the asteroid." Grabby saluted. "Kite, your squad will patrol the rest of the asteroid, just in case there are some surprises we don't know about." John glanced at the clock and realized he was going to be late for his next meeting if he didn't finish up soon. "Get your plans together and we'll meet again to discuss this tomorrow morning at 0800."

Grabby looked at Jack and grinned slightly. "When's the soonest you can be ready to leave?"

"One hour," Jack replied.

"Good, then let's get you back to your wife and get this plan in motion so I can start planning the real action."

John nodded his agreement and stood, prompting the soldiers in the room – except Tuckkit after a hard glare from Dr. Patch – to copy him and salute smartly. He dismissed them and walked quickly back to his quarters, where he only had time to sit down and skim over the supply manifesto before his next appointment, Schwartz, knocked at his door.

John let the man in and motioned for him to sit. He offered refreshments – Maximus had coached him on the importance of such rituals – and then sat down behind his desk again. "How will our supplies hold out if we bring aboard the prisoners?" he asked, eyeing the supply manifest on his desktop.

"To be perfectly honest," the crewman replied, scratching his stubbly beard, "I couldn't tell you until I see 'em. They'll be starved, dirty, needin' meds like this last lot. And if there's more babies, we'll be in even more trouble. We only have so much of the types of foods they can digest, and we've already worked on a blender system for the new mom, but if there's more, we'll have to find somewhere to resupply. Not to mention water rations and moral issues."

John nodded thoughtfully. "Admiral Stewards said he will direct a rescue ship to us, but it'll still be two weeks before they can get here from their current location. Until then, once our rescue is carried out, we'll have to lie low and conserve our resources."

"Aye, Cap'n." Schwartz hummed in agreement. He opened his mouth to continue but someone knocked at the door, interrupting the pair. John frowned slightly, knowing Maximus had not scheduled another meeting for an hour.

"Come in," he called nonetheless, pressing the door's key on his desk.

Kelly opened the door and leaned in. "Oh, sorry, John. I didn't know you were busy." She started to pull back into the hallway.

"It's alright," Schwartz chuckled, standing. He waved aside both Spartan's clumsy apologies and let himself out, whistling a merry tune.

Kelly grinned and beckoned to John. "Come on, _Captain. _You're the only one who hasn't come to see the baby yet."

John allowed himself to groan softly. "Kelly, I don't need to visit a baby. I've got plenty to do planning this rescue and fielding supply manifests." He waved away the display on his desk and sighed when a notification popped up telling him he had two new reports to read.

Kelly leaned over his desk and huffed. "You're slighting our guests by not visiting," she told John.

"…How?" John asked suspiciously. It sounded like an excuse to get him out of his quarters and away from his work.

"You're the captain of this ship. You're expected to at least go hold the baby and find out what its name is. And they want your blessings for it."

"My blessings?" John snorted in disbelief.

"They're old-fashioned. And since you're running this tub, you get to give them." Kelly waited for a reply and then furrowed her brow slightly. "And since Jack's apparently leaving in thirty minutes, I already told them you're on your way, so let's move it. We're Spartans, not turtles."

John, grumbling to himself, rose gracefully to his feet and allowed Kelly to lead him through the hallways to the med bay. They were ushered into the hastily-constructed maternity ward where Maddy, Jack, and Julia were arranged around a tiny crib in which a white blanket bundle was soundlessly asleep.

"Captain," Jack said in greeting, rising. He shook John's hand firmly and even John could see the faintest echo of relief on the man's face. Kelly had an "I told you so" expression on her face.

Maddy gathered up the bundle and uncovered a tiny round face, pink and plump, with wisps of blonde hair covering the fresh scalp. She rose carefully, holding the baby in the crook of one arm while the other steadied her against Julia's arm.

John cleared his throat softly and looked at the soft pink thing. It looked like a tiny human, of course, but he had never seen such flawless skin – it entranced him immediately. It glowed, pink and hale, from within the swaddling blanket.

"Captain, this is James Freedom," Julia said softly with a gentle grin on her aged face. "Maddy wanted to name him after her father – and as a reminder of our rescue."

"He's beautiful," John told her honestly. Despite his care to speak softly, the baby stirred at his deep voice and opened his crystal-clear blue eyes. He yawned and brought up one tiny curled fist to rub at his eyes, showing off pink gums and drooling a little on his blanket.

"Here." Julia wiped the drool off the baby's cheek and then gently took him from Maddy and held him out to John. Aware of the fragility of the tiny human, John started to shake his head – but Kelly stepped forward immediately and took up James with a practiced hand, cradling his head into her arm and the rest of his body into her chest. She grinned and, lightly as a feather, brushed a lock of hair out of James's eyes.

"It's alright," she said in an undertone to John. "Just imagine he's a pressure-activated grenade." Jack snorted in amusement.

With great care, Kelly showed John how to hold the baby by supporting his head and neck with one giant hand. In the Spartan's larger arms, James looked even smaller. John carefully copied Kelly's stance and let her place James in his arms. She smirked and winked as she stood back again.

John almost held his breath as he looked at the baby in his arms. It seemed such a fragile thing; he could hardly imagine, for a moment, how humanity had managed to survive when born this frail. But then James grabbed his finger, barely able to hold the meaty digit, and John could feel the strength in the newborn's grip. He wiggled his finger gently and the baby's eyes widened and it let go of his finger.

"Well, James Freedom," John chuckled, remembering Kelly's comment about blessings, "welcome aboard. We're glad to have you – and your family." Maddy smiled tentatively, watching her baby with a tender gaze. "I had a friend named James – he was the bravest man I ever knew." Kelly hummed her agreement. "And someday, you'll be just as brave and strong – and handsome, I suspect." Julia chuckled faintly and John looked up at Maddy and Jack. "For what they're worth, you have my blessings – and my word that we will do everything in our power to reunite your family."

"Our thanks, Captain," Jack said quietly. Maddy took James back and John breathed a silent sigh of relief that, despite his misgivings, James seemed perfectly happy to have been held in hands that had killed thousands.

Kelly and John left the trio to coo over the baby some more. They walked slowly back towards John's quarters. "I told you you could do it," Kelly said once they were out of the quiet med bay and into the hallways.

John hummed an acknowledgement. "He's more aware than I thought a two-day-old baby would be," he said in comment after a few seconds of companionable silence between them.

"Yes, he's very aware – even Julia remarked on it. But he was born healthy enough, which is a minor miracle considering the "care" they received on that asteroid." Kelly's voice was laced with anger.

"We'll get them out," John reminded her.

"I know, but I'm still angry. It's just… cruel. And stupid. If I were running a slave breeding program, I wouldn't put so much stress on the mothers. It's not good for productivity."

"You're thinking logically," John reminded her. "Jackals aren't logical thinkers."

"They're just vicious and cruel," Kelly agreed with a sigh. "Still, you'd think…"

"You would," John agreed with a slight grin, "but we have the luxury of _not_ running a slave breeding program, so we don't really need to debate how one is run, do we?"

"It's a hypothetical thing, John," Kelly retorted, smacking him gently in the shoulder. John nudged her in retaliation and then they had to walk straight because another pair of soldiers turned the corner and spotted them.

"Captain, Master Chief," they said in unison, standing to the side.

"Morning, Tin-tin, Cookie," Kelly replied cheerfully. "What's cooking?" She paused and John halted awkwardly, unsure if he should continue or remain.

"We were about to head to the rec room for a game of cards," the one on the left, Tin, replied, grinning. "Care to join us?"

"I would love to, but I've got to work on a report with the Cap'n," Kelly replied easily.

"Aw, yeah, that's right, 'cause Tuck's still loopy with meds," Cookie laughed.

"It was easier just being a soldier," Kelly sighed good-naturedly.

"Well, we won't hold you up then. The brass's gotta get their reports!" Both Tin and Cookie chortled and trotted off down the hall, chatting cheerfully. Kelly turned back to John, who silently turned towards his quarters.

"You alright?" Kelly asked as she caught up.

"Fine," John replied, tilting his head slightly. He stepped into his state room – Maximus had informed him of the name – and crossed to his desk.

Kelly let the door hiss shut and then sat down opposite John and observed him in silence for a long moment. John called up his report on the rescue – which he had sent to Admiral Stewards yesterday – and began to skim it quickly.

"Are you jealous that I've made friends outside our group?" Kelly asked suddenly into the silence a few moments later. John's train of thought came crashing to a halt and he noticed Maximus's AI signature pop up on the desk's system, which indicated that the AI was interested in what was happening in the room.

"No," John replied, looking up in surprise. He honestly was not jealous of Kelly's friends. He was simply not part of that circle.

"You're not trying very hard to make friends, you know," she said. Her tone was almost accusatory.

John blinked. He was unsure as to where this sudden attack was coming from but Kelly seemed honestly frustrated and perhaps a little concerned about him. "Kelly, I'm the captain – as you've been pointing out this entire trip. I'm not here to make friends. I'm here to run the ship and keep us on task."

Kelly leaned forward and balanced her elbows on his desk, interlacing her fingers. "You act like a fly on the wall even when you're in training or at the mess hall – like just now in the hallway."

"They weren't addressing me."

"That's 'cause you shut down on everything."

"I don't "shut down" on everything. I was standing right there," John argued, defensively. He had done nothing wrong. What did Kelly expect him to have done, interject with a comment? It had been a simple conversation between friends, after all.

"Yeah, like a bump on the log. You're cold and aloof and the soldiers don't like that." Kelly's eyes were hard when John locked their gazes in confusion, trying to read where this outburst had come from.

"Kelly, it was none of my business."

"They said hello and you didn't respond," Kelly pointed out.

"Alright," John acceded. "But you replied first and I didn't need to interrupt."

"It's not interrupting if you're just trying to be part of the conversation."

"It was five exchanges!" John ran a hand through his hair and Kelly's eyes flicked to the motion before finding his gaze again.

"You could have wished them a good game," Kelly told him sternly.

"Then I will next time."

"Good." Kelly sat back again, apparently satisfied. John watched her for a moment, still confused – she did not often give up an argument that easily – before shaking his head and looking back at his report.

"What would you like to add?" he asked Kelly, hoping she would refrain from biting his head off again.

"To what?" Kelly asked, blinking.

"Your report about the rescue."

"What are you talking about?"

John drew his eyebrows together. "You told Tin and Cookie you were going to work on your report with me. We finished this two days ago."

Kelly watched John for a long moment. "You are so utterly dense," she finally muttered. "John, it was an excuse. To spend time with you. Idiot."

"Oh." John cleared his throat and sheepishly closed the report. Maximus flashed up a note on his desktop that read "You have a meeting in ten minutes. Use your time wisely."

John closed the note and opened the plans for the raid on the asteroid colony. "Then we should work on the raid. I'm still worried-"

Kelly threw up her hands in disgust and launched to her feet. "Can't you spend _five minutes_ without working on a fucking report?" she hissed, leaning over John's desk. John prudently leaned back, aware of Kelly's mean right hook when she got upset.

"Kelly, I've-"

"Got responsibilities. I heard." Kelly's voice sounded as close to waspish as John had ever heard it. She whirled around and stomped out. The quiet hiss of the door closing was much less satisfying to her than a good slam would have been.

John was left in bewilderment sitting behind his desk, still leaning back. Maximus appeared silently on the desk's holographic pad and watched him sympathetically for a long moment. "I may only be an AI, sir, but… That was badly handled."

John looked at Maximus and nodded mutely in agreement. He leaned forward again, hoping to look at his plans for the raid, but Maximus shut down his desk's display. "Go _after_ her, Captain," the AI ordered. "You'll regret it if you don't. And Dr. West won't mind rescheduling."

"…Alright. Thank you, Maximus."

"You're welcome."

John rose and then paused half-way to the door and turned around. "Any tips on how I should handle this one?" he asked quietly.

Maximus smiled approvingly. "Apologize and listen to her. She's heading for the aft decks."

John nodded his thanks and let himself out of his quarters. He knew he had no hope of catching Kelly before she made it to the maze in the aft section, but he jogged quickly along nonetheless. Soldiers made way quickly and glanced after him curiously but shrugged it off, assuming the Captain had places to be.

Kelly liked the narrower hallways and looping twists of the engineering sections, built specifically to confuse strangers aboard the ship and make it harder for them to find the engine room. She could find it easily but decided not to go to that bustling place, instead decided to simply run. Running as quickly as her feet could take her, her breathing coming hard and fast, her mind could go numb.

She still was not sure why John's actions, first with Tin and Cookie and then in his rooms, had infuriated her so much. She felt like she was on a wire and being pulled in too many directions at once, about to fall into… something. Her skin felt too tight and she could not help but replay those moments, getting increasingly angry as she watched them over and over.

A whistled comment brought Kelly to a halt and she turned around to find Quick Flying chasing her. He trilled in imitation of her puffing breaths and reached out tentatively with one tentacle, the one with Kelly's blue hair still tied around it.

"Hey," Kelly said, gently grasping the Huragok's tentacle in a greeting. Quick Flying pressed another tentacle to her forehead and peeped in concern. "I'm fine, just taking a run." She wiped the sheen of sweat from her forehead.

Quick Flying whistled comment, clearly not believing her. He pressed a tentacle like a fingertip to Kelly's pulse at the hollow of her neck.

"It's nothing a run won't help," Kelly told the Huragok. "I'm just a little out of balance."

Quick Flying activated his translation system and floated back slightly to give himself room to gesture. His robotic voice, used to translate Huragok sign language, was tinny. "If you are out of balance you should test all your airbags for leaks," he told her.

Kelly smiled slightly despite herself. "I mean emotionally, Quickie, but thanks."

"Emotionally, too. Recenter, re-find self. All do this – it's part of being a good person. Huragok have a saying: "To become unbalanced is to lose one's focus." It's a good saying."

"It is," Kelly agreed. "And I run to rebalance myself."

Quick Flying made a sound of surprise and flapped his tentacles in a decent imitation of a human shooing motion.

"Thank you for your words," Kelly told the Huragok. She turned and started off again. Instead of sprinting, she jogged and the let her pace slow naturally, letting her muscles stretch and her breathing slow, until she was walking.

It was, therefore, with a slightly cooler head that she ran – almost literally – into John, who caught her by the shoulders immediately. Before Kelly could speak, he said quickly and almost as though he had rehearsed it, "I'm sorry, I'm an asshole, will you forgive me?"

Kelly could not help a smile tugging at her lips at the honest worry in John's voice and eyes. Aware of their relative isolation, she leaned into him and slid his arms around her shoulders. Still, despite feeling content in the embrace, she could not forget her anger at him.

"Kelly?" John asked after a long moment of silence.

"I'll forgive you," Kelly murmured. "I lost my temper. I'm sorry, too."

John exhaled in relief and buried his nose into her sweat-streaked hair. "You're right about me being aloof, too. But I'm worried about becoming too familiar with my soldiers."

Kelly nodded. It was, after all, a fair reason to hold back from being more proactive in making friendships. Tuckkit had mentioned, once and in passing, about the difficulty of not favoring one soldier or group over others.

"And I spend a lot of time on my reports because I'm reporting directly to Admiral Stewards and it's my first command at this level, even if it is temporary."

Kelly had to agree with that, too, even if she did not like it. "And I'm being greedy by wanting time with you," she acknowledged, though to her, relaxing for five minutes did not seem like such a big thing to ask.

"And you know we can't be in a relationship right now – not openly, at least," John reminded her quietly. Kelly knew how much weight John put on regulations and "the rules," but she could wish he would forget them, even for a little bit. They were mature adults, after all.

Then Kelly sighed. They were mature adults, all right – mature enough to handle being emotionally distant for a while for the sake of the crew and the mission.

"Truce?" John murmured after another minute of comfortable silence as the two pondered their respective conundrums.

"Truce," Kelly replied quietly. She leaned back slightly, just enough so that John lifted his head. Then she leaned up and kissed his throat. "For now," she whispered against the smoother skin of his neck.

John leaned back and placed a gentle, chaste kiss on her lips. She leaned against his chest again, feeling and hearing his strong heartbeat – and the gurgle of his intestines as he digested the morning's breakfast.

"It's almost lunch time," John murmured several minutes later. Kelly roused herself from the half-stupor she had been in, lulled by his steady heartbeat.

"My treat," Kelly replied teasingly. They separated but before Kelly could turn to lead the way back towards the cafeteria, John caught her hand. Kelly paused but John simply smiled and took the lead. They walked hand-in-hand until they came to one of the busier hallways, when both let their hands slide apart slowly. Kelly flashed a smile at John, who grinned back.

The cafeteria was packed, as usual at this hour, but the two found seats with a group of Marine Rabbits. Kelly introduced each one to John, using his name instead of his rank or title purposefully, and John, mindful of the earful from earlier, made an effort to speak to the soldiers. They ended up discussing a training drill that one of the Marines had invented but never tested; Kelly promised to discuss the issue with Tuckkit and see about implementing it in their daily routine.

John was surprised when he looked up and realized he had spent almost half an hour talking happily with the soldiers and would have been able to continue were it not for the four soldiers needing to report for barracks cleaning duty. Kelly wished them well, as did John, and then the pair put their dishes in the washing window and parted ways, Kelly to talk to Tuckkit and John to his rescheduled meeting with Dr. West.


End file.
